


Wandering Thoughts

by MalikRuttingAssassinAss



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Adorable Novice Assassins, Al Mualim's diaries, Altair being an idiot to make Malik feel better, Anal, Canon Character death - Kadar, Complete, Dubious Consent, Fingerfucking, Hurt/Angst/Comfort, Incest, Internalized Homophobia, Kadar haunts Malik's dreams, M/M, Molestation, Racism, Violence, handjobs, incubus, naked Malik cleaning, scarred for life novice, wounded!Malik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalikRuttingAssassinAss/pseuds/MalikRuttingAssassinAss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He could feel the weight on his chest. Heavy, unmovable and disabling, but he found himself not wanting to fight against it. The weight, he soon realised, was a pair of hands as they clenched into his bare chest and relaxed, then clenched again. Over and over they repeated the movement and Malik could hear someone’s breathing speed up and hitch. Confusion had long settled into his mind and now he simply accepted what was happening."</p>
<p>Malik is haunted by an Incubus who takes great pleasure in taking form as his brother. Drama and action in the waking world smothers his concerns in the meantime until the incubus gets Altair and Malik's feelings for him involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wandering Thoughts

**Author's Note:**

> As always, all characters except Taheer Al-Ghul belong to Ubisoft and I make no money from this story, weeee! But the story is (C) me, thank you very much!
> 
> I put 'succubus' instead of 'incubus' by accident as I didn't know which was which as the time of writing. I did correct, but if I missed some, then I apologise! The summary does this story little justice, I apologise again! Please read through, and I apologise a third time for not separating chapters through usual means, but I am lazy ;3;  
> Oh, and spot the time-leap in the final chapter! :D
> 
> Please enjoy and leave a comment maybe?! A kudos also turns me on something fierce... uhn.
> 
> Love, MalikRuttingAssassinAss :3

Chapter 1:

 

He could feel the weight on his chest. Heavy, unmovable and disabling, but he found himself not wanting to fight against it. The weight, he soon realised, was a pair of hands as they clenched into his bare chest and relaxed, then clenched again. Over and over they repeated the movement and Malik could hear someone’s breathing speed up and hitch. Confusion had long settled into his mind and now he simply accepted what was happening.  
  
And what was happening exactly still wasn’t really clear, but he guessed he was having sex, that much was obvious at least.  
  
The hands against his chest slid up to his neck and Malik felt how calloused and rough they were. _Assassin hands, or an overworked housewife…_ Malik pondered as he raised his hand to meet the one resting against his cheek. His eyes must have been blindfolded for he could feel the actions but not see them, nor the person giving him such attention. Malik concentrated, his other senses flaring up to compensate for his lack of sight.   
  
The heavy breathing coming from the person, it was rough, deep and laced with groans that sounded very masculine indeed. A man, fair enough, Malik supposed. His one hand reached out into the darkness to grope at the man over him, find his hip and pull him harder into the thrusts, but his wandering fingers found nothing but the sheets.   
  
“More.” Malik moaned, twisting his fingers into the linen and arching his back to gain more depth into the person he was buried within. A chaste laugh was released in return and Malik couldn’t shake the feeling he had heard it before. Altair? No. The man never laughed.  
  
“You were always so demanding…” The voice mewled and the weight settled against Malik’s hips firmly. “… Big brother.”

                                                                      ~***~

 

“Huh!”   
Taking a deep breath, Malik reigned in his urge to bolt upright and rub his skin like a mad man. He felt dirty, like maggots were crawling all over him, chewing into his skin and poisoning his blood. He glanced over to the shutters and found streaks of sunlight slicing into the room, warming the dark tones of his linen into a fine blue. He felt his fingers still twisted harshly into the sheets where it had been throughout his dream.

 

Oh Allah… That dream.  
  
A sharp shudder tore down his back at the mere thought of it. He refused to believe he had heard that voice. It was some sick twisted joke his overworked brain had constructed to simply fuck him over.   
  
As he slid out from under his sheets, he found his body clammy, yet cold. He had disturbed himself into a cold sweat, his heart hammering away within his ribcage. He placed his hand against his chest to sooth it, but by Allah, he was far too worked up over the dream to breathe properly, let alone stop his heart palpitations.   
  
“Just a dream…” Malik repeated to himself as he pulled on his breeches and tunic. He couldn’t think to start work with his body feeling as vile as it did, he had to wash and there was no other thing for it. The hammam was too far away, would take too much time and with Altair expecting him in less than hour, by the look of the sun’s place in the sky, he could only manage a cloth bath in the time given.   
  
So that’s what he did. Retrieving a pale of hot water from the kitchen, he took it back to his room to quietly wash himself in peace, but it seemed Allah wouldn’t bless him with such rarities today.   
  
Knelt on the floor, naked by that point, Malik plunged the rough cloth into the rose- infused hot water and brought it to his neck to scrub away the sweat and grime Malik believed the dream had left on his skin. He scrubbed until his skin was a punished pink then moved onto cleansing his chest. He was intending to clean until he felt normal again.

 

The door to his left moved so subtly that Malik first gave it little notice, believing it to have moved from a passing scholar or possibly a far-reaching wind, but then it continued to open and in stepped a pair of well-worn leather boots.   
  
“Malik, we have an issue.”  
  
“We certainly do.” Malik growled at the intruding Grand Master but made no effort to stop washing himself. Altair had invaded on his personal time in his quarters, like hell he’d cover himself up for his sake. He had nothing to be ashamed of regardless. “Well? Be out with it, if it is so important.”

 

“I… uh…” Altair took the time to swallow before darting his eyes up to the ceiling and clenching his fists. “Another two men have died during the night. It seems our old master had to completely destroy the stronger men’s minds to take control of them. That’s another two Master Assassins gone.” Finally Altair turned back to Malik and stopped his pacing. Malik sighed and lowered his head, clutching the cloth tightly against his thigh.

 

After Altair had taken down their old Master, he had willed the Apple to release the minds of the Assassins, journeymen, informers and novices Al Mualim had taken control of. Unfortunately, such an action had damned those whose minds were utterly shattered by the Apple’s power. Those men had been left in comas and were slowly dying one by one due to the damage sustained. Malik visited the men often, hoping to find anyway of reviving their ruined minds and bring them back to health, but this was something beyond his control. And he hated it.  
  
“Such good men…” Malik muttered beneath his breath. “They all knew they were to sacrifice themselves for the Order one day… They knew that when Al Mualim gave the command, they were to give their lives… But this… this is for no good reason!”   
  
“I know…” Altair sighed.  
  
“The man has been dead for weeks and yet he is still destroying us like a disease! He is still taking lives, hasn’t he taken enough with him already!?”  
  
“Malik...”

 

“He can’t just be happy with the deaths of his fellow Templars you gave him, but he must also continue to take from the grave!? My _brother’s_  life gave him the taste for innocent blood and now he cannot stop, not even now he is before the reaper!”

 

“Malik, please…” Altair breathed as he knelt to Malik’s left, carefully reached over and took the rough cloth from the man’s fingers. “I mourn too, but we must keep our minds from turning vengeful and angry. We are the only men keeping the Order together at the moment and the threads are frail, as you know…” Even as he spoke, Altair was working off his vambraces and rolling up his sleeves. Malik gave the man a disgruntled scowl as Altair dipped the cloth back into the bucket, then brought it to Malik’s back.   
  
“What are you doing..?” Malik grunted.  
  
“Instructing novices on their studying skills, brother.”  
  
Altair gave the man full eye contact, before he smiled softly and lowered his face back under the shadow of his hood.   
  
“Sarcasm is just a clever form of dishonesty. Remember that, novice.” Malik sighed as he allowed Altair to continue, regardless of his grumbling.   
  
“So, what can we do, Altair? The Apple has already taken all function from them, if they do wake up, it’ll be an empty shell staring back. There won’t be any mind, no soul… The body will keep functioning, but no one will be inhabiting it.”  
  
“What more can we do? The Apple has lost its power, and even if it had not, how are we meant to control it?”  
  
“Mn, I will work on finding an answer today. No doubt Al Mualim wrote about controlling the apple in his many diaries.” Malik swallowed thickly as he felt Altair cross his shoulders and freeze over what remained of his left arm.   
  
It was clear why the man stopped. It was still a sore subject and in Altair’s mind he could only imagine the affected area still hurt also.  
  
“Let me.” Malik muttered and took the cloth from Altair’s fingers which he promptly dumped into the bucket, clenched the excess water in his fist and went back to scrubbing his stump. “Give me time to finish cleaning and I’ll start working.” A not very subtle hint for him to leave.

  
Altair either didn’t catch the hint, or simply ignored it as he continued to kneel behind Malik, watching him wash. Altair did this when he thought deep, just watched the nearest person who caught his interest and kept staring.  
  
“You will damage yourself thinking so hard.” Malik eventually muttered and dipped the rag into the bucket again. Altair turned his head back just in time to have the cloth slapped over his face. A muffled yelp escaped the man and Malik could do nothing but laugh and scrub Altair’s face.  
  
“M-Mal!” He snapped, slumping back onto the floor to get away. Malik grinned and followed the man down, tugging back the Grand Master’s hood and rubbing the cloth into the sandy brunette hair he found underneath.  
  
“Look at the dirt coming off on the cloth, Altair! Dirtier than a pubescent Novice.” He teased.  
  
“Forgive me, but I have been far too busy trying to keep the brotherhood from falling apart to tend to my own needs.” Altair grumbled, both hands around Malik’s wrist but not moving to push the man away. He eventually closed his eyes and allowed Malik to continue his ministrations. He had truly neglected himself in all this mess and if Malik was willing to tend to him like a doting mother, then Altair would bite his pride and allow him.   
  
“Malik?” Altair blinked when a deft hand dropped the cloth back in the bucket and then started to unfasten his belt.  
  
“Let me wash you properly.” Malik muttered, eyes set on what his hand was doing. Altair clenched his jaw tight, before nodding and pulling open his robes once his belt had gone.  
  
“Breeches and boots too. I said _wash properly,_ not a half-assed job you seem so happy to do.”  
  
Altair hesitated for a moment, before nodding softly and lying back on the floor. He lifted his hips and worked his breeches down with his thumbs, then kicked off his boots, leaving him just as naked as Malik. He trusted Malik completely, and he knew the rafiq knew that also.  
  
“Let us see if there are any muscles beneath that dirt.”

 

“I am not as bad as you think.” Altair quickly defended himself, but immediately quit his whining when Malik slapped the cloth down on his stomach and began to scrub fiercely. Altair felt his muscles quivering beneath Malik’s hand and he fought to stop himself from shuddering at the stinging of his skin. His skin wasn’t as hard-wearing as Malik’s, thanks to his mother’s English origin with her fair tone and sensitivity, so his skin quickly became bright pink where Malik scrubbed.  
  
“Stop being so difficult.” Malik growled when Altair began to squirm under the now painful scrubbing.   
  
“Stop trying to grind away my flesh, then!” Altair snapped back. Malik simply rolled his eyes and ran the cloth down past Altair’s well abused stomach to his penis. The Grand master immediately tensed and grabbed Malik’s arm tight enough to bruise.   
  
“What is wrong..?” The rafiq whispered, giving Altair a firm squeeze as a playful grin stretched across his sharp features.   
  
“Let go.” Altair swallowed thickly, trying to focus on Malik’s eyes when all he wanted to do was slump back against the floor and allow the man to pleasure him. But it would be wrong, so damn wrong.  
  
“Altair…” Malik chuckled and shook his head. “My preferences may be vastly different from yours or every other man’s that I know of, but it certainly doesn’t mean I want to sleep with, or pleasure, a man like you.” Another firm squeeze had Altair releasing a loud moan, before Malik resumed cleansing Altair, carefully cleaning the man’s penis as it grew hard in his grip.   
  
“Malik.” The man bit his lip hard and diverted his eyes to the ceiling. “Allah above, stop it!”  
  
“Sorry, I was having too much fun.” Malik chuckled openly and ran the cloth into the cleft of Altair’s arse. “As were you, by all appearances.”  
  
“I hate you.”   
  
“I hate you too, now turn over.”  
  
Altair shuddered as a finger pressed hard against his perineum, a harsh gasp escaping him and his back arching off the floor. “A-Allah!” He choked.  
  
“Sssh… You will wake the novices in their dorms.” Malik couldn’t help himself. Altair was too pliant, too easy to poke, prod and stroke into a squirming mess and then leave hard and aching. Altair was far too professional to hold a grudge for the inappropriate fondling either.  
  
“Malik.”  
  
Yes, this had happened before. Malik smirked softly at the slight quiver in Altair’s voice as his fingers wrapped around Altair’s penis again, clutching him tightly and giving a few squeezes. It had happened plenty of times, first starting when they were journeymen, fresh out of the novice groups and on their first missions away from Masyaf. Kissing, touching, rutting, a quick tumble in the hay here and there, it was only fun. Both Altair and Malik were comfortable with their sexualities, so didn’t seek to prove themselves to each other, or indeed, anyone else.  
  
Altair was straight, Malik knew this well, but it didn’t deter him from torturing the man. He enjoyed every second of the Grand Master squirming, grunting and panting against the floor beneath him, but he knew Altair wasn’t thinking much about Malik’s gender at all, he was probably thinking more about connecting with Malik in a way he wouldn’t with anyone else.  
  
Or he was in need of the comfort and succour only Malik was willing to provide.

 

Either way, Malik didn’t care. He simply enjoyed the look of utter abandon spread over Altair’s face as he writhed and bucked into the hand working over his penis. Malik sat back on his haunches, hand still working over Altair’s penis. He watched the man below him, observing the fingers digging into the floor above Altair’s head leave claw marks in their wake.

 

“M-mal!” His heavy breathing hitched and his spine arched as fluid was released from the head of Altair’s penis, landing across his belly and chest and soon dripping off onto the floor. “Malik…” He breathed.   
  
“As vocal as always.” Malik muttered and took the rag up from the floor again. “A healthy amount too, must have been a while since your last lay.”  
  
“What part of ‘been far too busy trying to keep the brotherhood from falling apart to tend to my own needs’ have you not understood?” Altair growled as he snatched away the cloth and began to scrub his own mess from his abdomen with a fierce, embarrassed blush.   
  
“Yet, you let me satisfy you regardless of whether you have time for it or not.” Malik snickered and rose from the floor to get his robes on. “Perhaps you should get dressed, hm? Before a novice comes in and gets scarred for life.”  
  
“You were the one to undress me in the first place.”  
  
“And I’m sure you would enjoy having someone dress yourself for you like a toddler.”  
  
A small growl came from behind him as he bent and grabbed his breeches, thumb under the hem and gliding to each side to pull them up until they settled over his hips.  
  
                                                                           

Chapter 2:

“You seem troubled.”  
  
Malik raised his head from one of the hundreds of tomes piled up around him. The scowl Altair received only made Altair fonder of the man, for some reason.  
  
“You would be too if you were reading some of the things Al Mualim wrote about.” Altair noted the tight grip the rafiq had on the tome in his hand, his fingernails digging permanent marks into the leather it was bound with and immediately knew just how angry Malik was.

  
Malik loved books, he wouldn’t desecrate without knowing and the way Malik was damaging this one was a sure sign that something was very wrong indeed. Altair carefully approached the rafiq who sat cross-legged in the fortress of books. He knelt slowly, a hand held out in hopes of taking a look of the book himself.  
  
“It is in code, you will not be able to read it unless I teach you…” Malik sighed, but handed the tome over regardless. “Try to translate it yourself with this code manuscript. If you need help, just ask.” He stood with a tired groan and walked off to the desk where he stood, hand against the surface of the table and hanging his head to read through more parchments strewn about.   
  
Altair returned his attention to the manuscript in one hand and the tome in the other.

 

Fitting the manuscript into the crease between the pages, he placed the tome on the floor, pulling a quill and ink to himself and a blank piece of paper.  
  
“You could at least tell me before I go to all this effort.” Altair called over his shoulder.  
  
“If you believe reading and writing are an effort, then I suppose you shall need tutoring like a novice.” Malik sighed and walked back to Altair, towering over the Assassin who lay on his belly on the floor with his quill and ink ready. “You will find it difficult to believe from my mouth, Altair. It is best if you learn Al Mualim’s code in case anything happens to me and I am unable to translate for you.”  
  
Altair stared up at Malik when those words were uttered quite freely. The Assassin could feel a tightness in his chest simply imagining Malik not there. An air of helplessness and desperation would fill him, he would fall into disrepair, trust no one and would very likely become a new Al Mualim, sending Novices to their deaths and not caring for the many who returned injured, or indeed dead.  
  
“Altair.” Malik nudged the man with his boot and watched how Altair’s eyes focused again as he escaped his thoughts. “Translate it yourself. I will not do it for you.” The rafiq paused. “I refuse to read that bastard’s words again… They are like poison, poison written into pages and pages by a man who seeped dishonesty and corruption from every pore!”

 

“So this is something personal..?” Altair questioned even as he turned to the tome and began to work through the translation process. “You understand I have only the utter most trust in you, Malik, correct?”   
  
Malik blinked and closed his mouth, immediately relaxing from his tensed posture. His clawed hand dropped harmlessly to his side and he turned back to Altair, fixing him with a slightly disturbed, yet flattered smile. Altair looked back to his tome and leant down to fake he was paying any attention to it.   
  
“It is true, brother. No matter what you may say, or indeed _do_  to me, I trust you.” Altair made a show of turning onto his back, leaning on his elbows to fix Malik a level stare from under his hood. “Simply do not betray it. It has been abused enough by… others.”  
  
Malik hesitated by Altair, eyes searching for a crack in his veneer that would prove he was simply humouring Malik, but nothing happened.   
  
“You speak truth.” He muttered, smile fading immediately.  
  
“I have never lied to you, Malik. I have done stupid things, allowed my arrogance to cloud me-”  
  
Altair stopped as Malik’s eyes snapped to the tome as Altair hinted towards Solomon’s temple and that was all he needed to know what was written there.  
  
“Read it for me, please… I will learn the code eventually.”  
  
Malik worried his full lips, before groaning and rolling his eyes upwards.  
  
“If you wish.” He mumbled as he lowered himself down and sat on the floor beside Altair. “I will read from the beginning of the entry to the end. If you want me to stop, then simply say so...”  
  
“The same conditions to you, brother.” The man beside him whispered and sat up properly to hold the tome for Malik as his only index finger started to follow his voice.  
  
 _“March 17 th 1191.  
  
I have decided to take actions against my fellow brothers. The Apple, it calls for me, just like it did when I first held it in my palm. The seductress within it still holds me in its clutches and I wish to answer her. I have agreed with my brothers to leave the artefact there, knowing the power it possesses is not for human hands. What rubbish. I am Mentor of the Assassin Order and I will have what I want, regardless of Robert De Sable’s pact. _

_But therein lays the problem._

_Robert De Sable is young, expert with a sword and can pick up a grown man like a child’s toy. He will be the man to stop me, I am not ignorant to this._

_My body is frail, it will not fight against the hundreds of men I know will be surrounding Solomon’s temple, baring the crest of the Knights Templar. I will have to send my best men there. They will kill any in their way if I say so, no matter how innocent. They will blindly believe anything I say. But with Robert De Sable and his army of men guarding the temple, it will be near impossible for even my best men to get in and out with the artefact alive.  
  
Perhaps a scapegoat then? I must preserve my best men, and if only one of my best men survives and returns with the artefact, then that shall be how it is. It will be a mission successfully carried out.  
  
\- Rashid Ad-Din Sinan”_

Altair sat there; jaw tight and eyes blank as he leant and stared at the gibberish on the page that Malik managed to read with such ease. He closed his eyes hard, squeezing them shut until he was seeing strange splotches of colours instead of the darkness. Then, he felt Malik’s hand on his arm.  
  
“Would you like me to stop..?”  
  
“There is more?” Altair blinked his eyes open and focused them on Malik.  
  
“Yes.” Malik sighed and returned to the tome.

 

  
  
_“April 1 st 1191,  
  
Altair, Malik and his young brother, Kadar, left three days ago. I am to hear word of either their success or deaths. I am anxious for the Apple now. That boy had better not fail me. Altair is arrogant, cocky and so willing to put his tongue to my boot that I will be truly surprised if he does not return with my prize.   
  
I doubt Malik will return, and I am certain Kadar will not. Unbeknownst to them, that novice is the bait. Malik argued for days to have Kadar stay here, and a few angry words were exchanged. I told him it would be good training for his brother and if they were true Master Assassins, they would be able to protect their novice tag along easily.  
  
I could see the tension between Altair and Malik the second they learnt they were to work together. Altair I know does not enjoy working in a team, he selfishly runs ahead, kills the target himself and returns to me for the glory. What I would give to be able to cut the smug look from his face without drawing suspicion. _

_It is for this reason…”  
  
_ “The entry cuts short, no doubt because of our return…” Malik whispered tightly, before carefully turning the page.  
  
 _“Altair returned. Empty handed. I had not counted on this. But just as Altair was rambling for excuses like a novice, Malik appeared in the archway and started to berate and scream at Altair. His arm was in ribbons, dangling by what must have been cracked bone and tendons uselessly at his side. Blood blossomed all the way down his body and he looked as if death had him by its bony fingers.  
  
They look in Altair’s eyes as he took in his brother’s appearance was humorous to say the least. I do not know if it was shock over Malik’s survival, or the state of his body, but the boy looked close to tears.   
  
And then Malik was telling us about the army he brought with him. I sent Altair into the fray without rest. Perhaps he will die, finally?  
  
Kadar is dead, just as I thought he would be. A sword straight through his heart, killing him almost instantly. Malik shared with me the way he held his dying little brother in his arms, swinging his sword at any Templar who got too close like some cornered animal. He told me he cried, fitting his dangling arm under his brother’s head and holding him until the life drifted from him. I almost smiled at him, almost allowed my veneer of care to slip as he cried openly in front of me, tendons slowly separating from the dead-weight of mutilated arm.   
  
It will have to be removed. I will enjoy listening to the boy screaming for Allah’s mercy in the infirmary. I might have Altair help hold the boy down as the doctors slowly hack away his arm, just to see what it does to him.   
  
With the apple at my side, I have the power to do anything I desire. Not only will the Assassins cower to me, but also the Templars. I will control both brotherhoods with an iron fist and take any country I please as my own. Only with such control will there ever be peace.  
  
The battle outside calls for my attention.   
  
\- Rashid Ad-Din Sinan”  
  
_ Malik swallowed painfully and lifted his eyes towards the large window cutting an archway into the wall opposite the desk.   
  
“Burn it…” A voice whispered as a forehead pressed into his shoulder. Malik glanced at Altair, feeling how Altair pressed his head harder against him when Malik didn’t reply. “Fucking burn it!” He snapped.   
  
“I must continue to read, there might be important links in his diaries and we may discover more of his corruption and how deeply it goes.” Malik sighed, turning towards the Assassin and grasping his chin gently to get the man to look at him. “Altair…”  
  
“He planned it all, he…”  
  
“Altair.” Malik closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Altair’s, running the back of his fingers over the scar on the Assassin’s lip, before pulling away and turning back to the tome. Altair opened his eyes to the sound of paper being ripped, then watched as Malik grabbed a torch from the wall and dropped it over the pages he had torn free of the book.   
  
“How fitting, both the man and his writings, all up in smoke…” The Grand Master smirked to himself. It faded as Malik turned back to him and slumped onto the floor, his head hanging. Altair moved over, holding the man’s shoulder as he circled him and found Malik’s cheeks wet from tears. Touching his fingers to Malik’s cheeks, the rafiq immediately drew away and took a deep breath to relax himself.   
  
“Malik, I am sorry I made you read that.”  
  
“No, that is not the problem.” Malik sighed. “It is that he laughed behind my back! He laughed at my brother’s death!”   
  
“I…” What could Altair say? He tried to think, but his limited vocabulary was already being pushed and he couldn’t find anything to say to try sooth the rafiq in front of him. Eventually, Altair moved forward and took Malik’s arm, carefully pulling him to his feet and forcing Malik still as he rubbed the tears from the man’s cheeks.   
  
“Thank you.” Malik mumbled, pulling the sleeve over his hand to rub over his eyes. Altair said nothing. He simply placed a hand on the small of Malik’s back and turned him towards the staircase.   
  
“Go get something to eat. You have not eaten since last night, and even then you were limited. I am sure Rauf will be feeding his novices now, join him.”  
  
“I think I would rather cry into a sweet pastry alone right now.” Malik muttered even as he smiled. “I will be in my room. If you need me, you know where I will be.”  
  
Altair gave his Second a light smile, before Malik was pulling away from his grasp and slipping off down the staircase. Altair watched, waiting for the man to be out of hearing shot. He turned and picked up the code manuscript to learn the code off-by-heart.

 

It was only later on when he’d read so much his eyes felt like balls of sand in his sockets that he thought to get up and check on Malik. His brain was so filled with the code that he swore he saw some scrolling across the bannister as he made his way down the staircase. He found the door to Malik’s room and gave a subtle glance to the candle light coming from under the door. He knocked and carefully pushed the door open.

“How are you feeling..?”   
  
Malik glanced up from his book to the door of his quarters and found Altair lingering in the doorway like some shy child who had done something wrong and was waiting to be punished.  
  
“Come in. I will not discuss this with the door open.” Malik grumbled. Altair stepped inside, closed the door and approached Malik on his bed. “Better now that I have had time to calm down.” The rafiq sighed.  
  
“You have eaten..?”  
  
“Yes. A novice brought me some stew.” Malik smiled fondly at the memory of a little, stuttering fledgling who came stumbling into his quarters with boots too big for him and novice robes reaching the tips of his fingers, holding a bowl of stew and half loaf of bread.

_“Master Rauf sends his love, Master Malik!”_ The boy had giggled before stomping out of his room again.

  
“Good.” Altair sighed and gave a brief glance to the empty bowl resting on the desk. “I need you, so do not fall into disrepair.” He whispered and brushed his hand back through Malik’s raven locks. “Get some rest, you look drained.”  
  
“Yes, Mother.”  
  
“That is ‘Mother Eagle’ to you.” Altair grinned as he pulled himself up on the bed, arms bent to imitate wings and crowded Malik against the headboard. Malik chuckled as Altair sat across his hips and grabbed the tails of his white robes to wrap around the rafiq, all the while making chirping noises a Mother eagle would make to her chicks.   
  
“You are insane.” Malik muttered into Altair’s chest.  
  
“So says the man who pleasures their friends for fun.” The Grand Master replied swiftly. “You honestly make me question my sexuality sometimes, Malik.” He sighed and dropped his robe tails to brush his fingers through the rafiq’s hair again. The man chuckled and rubbed his hand up Altair’s thigh to cup his arse.   
  
“I said _sometimes_.”   
  
“And I care about as much as I did before you said _sometimes._ ” Malik grinned and gave the rump in his hand a sharp slap before pushing Altair off his lap. “Fine, I will do as you say, ‘Mother Eagle’, and get some sleep.”  
  
“If you could report for duty as usual in the morning, please, thank you.” Altair muttered as he rolled off the bed and headed for the door.   
  
“Yes, Mother Eagle.” Malik smirked and sat up to shed his robes, armour and boots. Altair turned to the sound of Malik’s sword clacking softly against the wall where Malik rested it. He hesitated. Malik pulled off his tunic and sighed, rubbing across his neck before Altair caught his attention by the door. The man was staring at him, seeming to be tormented by his thoughts.  
  
“Altair.”   
  
The Grand Master shook himself to his senses and gave Malik complete eye contact. Swallowing, he smiled softly and bowed. “Safety and Peace, Malik.” He muttered, before leaving the room and pulling the door shut behind him.

  
“Upon you as well…” The rafiq blinked. Such strange behaviour, he thought. Shrugging, he slipped off his breeches and slid under his covers. He reached out to snuff the candle and then slumped into the soft linen. He only felt how drained his body was when his eyelids immediately sealed shut and refused to open again. He was tired. He felt so old all of a sudden.  
  
Sleep claimed him quickly.  
  
Chapter 3:

The weight was there again. Incessant, pressing and disabling as it was the last time. His penis was being taken again, but unlike last time, it was sickening him. He knew who was on him, he didn’t want it and he wanted the man off him that second.  
  
“Brother, stop squirming.”  
  
“Get off me.” Malik snapped, gritting his teeth against the pain the voice caused him.   
  
“Why would I do that? We did not finish last time, you left before I could get what I wanted.”  
  
“You are not real. You are a figure of my imagination. You are dead.” Malik moaned anyway when the man rolled his hips and Malik gave a harsh thrust upwards into that heat regardless of his efforts to control himself.  
  
“You want the same as me, do not deny yourself.” The man laughed. “Is it because you feel guilty about what happened? Is it because you could not save me..? Or do you feel guilty that you want Altair so badly but cannot have him… so you think of me instead.”  
  
“How does that make any sense!? You speak in tongues, you are dead!”  
  
“Am I..?” Lips pushed against his own and he lost control of himself as he pushed his mouth back into the kiss, fingers finding the man’s hip and tugging him forward harshly. The man gasped and broke the kiss.  
  
“Do you want the blindfold off..?” He asked. Malik blinked and creased his brow a few times, only now feeling the blindfold around his head. He gave a sharp nod, before lifting his head from the cushions and allowing deft fingers to unlace the blindfold from his eyes. The fabric fell from his eyes and soon the world was coming into focus, albeit slowly.  
  
“Brother… Look at me.”  
  
“Kadar.” Malik breathed, his eyes soon defocusing again as tears clouded his vision.   
  
“Malik… I love you…” Malik felt hands clasping his cheeks and the backside against his pelvis shift. “I love you so much, look at what I am willing to do with you, look at what I always _wanted_  to do.” Another kiss was pressed against his lips and those hips were moving again. Malik felt his hold on the situation slip as tears continued their descent from his eyes with no signs of stopping. Malik lifted his hips into a downward thrust, but Kadar’s hands pushed softly on his chest, stilling him immediately.  
  
“Don’t. Let me…” Kadar’s boyish long hair still felt as soft as it did before as Malik carded his fingers into it and brushed it back from his face. “Please, don’t cry.” He whispered.  
  
“But you are dead.” Malik closed his eyes tight as a finger pressed against his lips.  
  
“I am always with you. You did not listen to my final words? Perhaps they were too gurgled with blood for you to hear them.”  
  
“Kadar.” Malik choked, tears spilling anew as he turned his face away from the phantom.  
  
“I said; ‘I will never truly be dead until you are with me, brother.’ I meant I am with you. No bond is stronger than the one between us.” Kadar pressed a soft kiss to Malik’s cheek bone, his hair ticklish against the man’s ear. The rafiq turned back to the man over him, swallowing heavily and chest convulsing from the sobs escaping him.  
  
“But why am I…?”  
  
“It is what I want…”

Malik spent a few seconds to stare up at the man currently sitting on his penis. The man stared back, eyes full of warmth and hands so familiar against his face. But he knew better. This wasn’t his brother. His brother was dead. With a sharp shove to the chest, he pushed the figure away from him and closed his eyes tightly against the tears.

  
“No, it is not you, you are not my brother. You are part of a sick dream!”  
  
“No, Malik, don’t go!” Kadar yelped.  
  
                                                                          ***  
  
He didn’t try to control himself this time. He bolted upright in bed and gasped for breath. His heart was hammering in his ears, his mouth dry and his ears rung in the silence around him. Leaning forward, he gained his balance long enough to touch his fingers to his cheek, finding them wet from tears.    
  
Kadar… He repeated the name of his late brother over and over in his head as he pulled on his breeches. He was so confused. The Kadar of his dreams, he seemed so real. But he couldn’t understand why the man was trying to have sex with him- well, he wasn’t _trying_ , he just _was._ Malik took a deep breath and looked up to the carvings on the ceiling.   
  
A sob escaped him as he remembered just how willing he was to consent to his Brother, how easily he was drawn into the incubus’ grasp. It wasn’t his brother. His brother wouldn’t have wanted something like that, especially from Malik. It was why Malik had shunned his own sexuality for so many years. It was only after being posted as the Jerusalem Rafiq that he thought ‘fuck it’ and allowed his sexuality to take him places a real Assassin would never see. And if it killed him, all the better, he had thought.   
  
He knew Kadar would have loved him no matter what, but he didn’t want his brother knowing he wasn’t _perfect_   like Altair.  
  
Altair…  
  
Malik rose from the bed still damp with sweat and tears and headed straight for the door. He pulled it open and looked around, blinking the tears from his eyes to better see who was around. There wasn’t a soul, good. Malik rounded the corner and headed down the hall until he came to Altair’s quarters. He had refused to occupy the Grand Master’s quarters, for unknown reasons, but Malik could tell the quarters of their old Master made Altair so uncomfortable he doubted the man could spend more than an hour in the room, let alone a night.  
  
He eventually found Altair’s quarters in the mostly empty north-east wing of the Castle. It was where the Master Assassins slept and beside Altair, only Rauf occupied a room, but it was far from Altair’s as the man usually allowed his novices to push their bedrolls into his quarters and they were usually arguing the best strategy to do this or the most effective way to slice off that. Rauf’s current novices were all too young to sleep unsupervised regardless. Most of them were still crying after being separated from their mothers.   
  
Malik cringed at the thought. It was such a cruel custom. He only hoped Altair would change it. Malik gently knocked on the Master Assassin’s door and waited for a moment. No answer came and he could feel another sob making its way up his throat so he turned the door knob and pushed forward into the room. He could see the lump of an assassin in the sheets from where he stood and in the silence, he could even hear the man’s breathing. Steady and rhythmic, he noted. So the man was sleeping.   
  
The rafiq glanced to the sky through the window casting shards of moonlight across the bed. The moon was arced north-west in the sky, and he knew he current faced south, so around 2-3 hours after midnight.

 

Movement from under the sheets drew Malik back to the Assassin. He felt like a voyeur simply standing in the doorway, so he stepped inside and closed the door quietly. He avoided the squeaky floorboard he knew Altair had purposefully worked loose by the bookcase and ducked the fine silk thread that, if broken, would drop an old blunted dagger onto the floor from the high ceiling. Malik couldn’t even start to think about how he had set that one up, or how long it had been there. But he knew of its existence regardless. Altair trusted Malik to know of his paranoid anti-intruder traps, and Malik appreciated that.  
  
He found himself at the side of the bed and reached his hand out, lifting the covers and carefully slid in beside Altair. The bed smelt of him all over. The scent was everywhere and Malik closed his eyes to savour it for a moment, before he slid forward and carefully snaked his hand around the Assassin’s waist.

The touch was enough to have Altair jolted awake. His eyes snapped open and immediately sought the dagger dangling from the ceiling. It was still there.   
  
“Malik?” He croaked as he turned over and rubbed the back of his hand into his eye. He paused and allowed his hand to drop into his lap once Malik turned his face away, burying his face into the cushions. Altair frowned and reached out, grabbing Malik by the chin and tugging his face back. He paused and took in the face of his closest friend staring back at him. Tear tracks were still drying against his cheeks, his eyes were red from what he could guess was crying, and his lips were bitten red.

 

He opened his mouth to ask what had happened, but quickly thought better when he knew there were many things that could have caused this. He himself had been in the same condition as Malik a few times, and the same troubles could have affected him.  
  
Malik forced a smile through the fresh tears slipping down his face. Altair was biting his tongue for his sake. The curiosity and worry must have been chewing him up, but he didn’t say a word. For that, Malik was thankful.   
  
“I… do not trust myself to be alone.” Malik sighed and settled against the bed again. Altair gave a soft nod and shifted to lie facing Malik. He reached out a hand brushed the tears away.   
  
“It has been difficult for you, this I do not doubt it for a second.” He whispered, before a yawn forced its way from his lungs. Giving himself a soft slap to the cheek, he looked back to Malik and grinned. “Could you not wait to have your break down in the morning?” He dropped his voice into funny tone. “Shit, Malik, so fucking selfish…”

 

“Sorry, Princess.” Malik mumbled as he hid his grin with the cushion his face was pushed into.   
  
Altair paused and watched the rafiq for a moment. Eventually, Malik drew his face from the cushion and settled his gaze on the Assassin beside him, still grinning softly. The expression looked nothing but sad and Altair had a hard time not asking what had happened again. He instinctively bit down on his tongue to stop himself from asking, before shuffling and settling on the bed beside his trusted second in command.  
  
“If you need to talk…” He eventually whispered.   
  
Malik shook his head and sighed.  
  
“What is there to talk about? I miss my brother dearly.” The man shrugged.  
  
A flash of guilt appeared in Altair’s eyes as he looked away and brushed a hand back through his unruly short sandy brunette hair.  
  
“You have nothing to …” Malik sighed heavily and punched Altair in the pectoral in frustration. “I will not repeat myself over and over.”  
  
“Sorry…” The Assassin muttered and took a hold of Malik’s wrist, carefully pulling the man over himself, before rolling over on top of the rafiq and holding him tight.  
  
“Egh, how vile, I can feel your penis on my thigh.” Malik grumbled, pushing lightly on the Assassin’s chest. A low chuckle erupted from Altair, his face buried into Malik’s neck as he gave a playful buck of his hips against Malik’s thigh.  
  
“Such lewd behaviour! Were you brought up in a brothel?” The rafiq couldn’t hide the grin now on his lips. Altair didn’t move, he simply tightened his grip on Malik’s flanks and steadied himself on his knees. Malik closed his eyes and ran his hand up into Altair’s hair, waiting for the man to get bored and roll off then fall asleep.

“Mother Eagle, your warmth is appreciated, but do not fall asleep on me.”  
  
Still no answer. He could tell Altair was still awake as his breathing was still picked up and his arms began to move until he was leaning on his elbows.

“You can get off me no-….”  
  
Altair slowly moved his face out from Malik’s neck and gave cautious look into the man’s eyes. Malik felt his mouth dry out as Altair pressed his lips tenderly against his own, before pulling away. Malik stared at the Assassin over him, swallowed heavily and carefully lifted his head to taste more of those half-Christian, half-Syrian lips. Altair closed his eyes, pushing forward into the kiss and sliding a tongue between Malik’s teeth.  
  
So, the novice was a good kisser, he should have expected that.   
  
For all his molesting and inappropriate groping, Malik had never gone so personal as to kiss the man, but he hadn’t initiated it, that was what surprised him most, and what turned him on something fierce. Altair had started it this time, had kissed like a virgin, before Malik had decided he was worthy of more and had begun to kiss like the man he was.   
  
But Altair was straight, Malik knew this, Altair knew this, obviously, so Malik drew away and licked his lips unashamedly. He enjoyed the taste on his tongue, the way it slid down his throat and settled as a warm pool of heat in his chest.

“We should not be doing this, Altair…” He whispered softly.

Altair seemed to ignore him and lapped the saliva from his lips, eyes firmly in connection with Malik’s. The eagle gold fixed into his own onyx and he soon found himself unable to look away. The unmasked, de-hooded eyes burnt bright in the darkness and swallowed up his attention, he couldn’t see anything past those irises, and soon realised he didn’t need to.   
  
“You are right… We should not do this, Malik.” Altair finally replied. So, he had heard, Malik realised with a scowl. “We should stop.” He added even as he leant down for another kiss. Malik met it half way and clasped Altair’s face in his hand. He suddenly felt the other’s hands gliding down under his back, slide under his breeches and cup his rump firmly to lift him into Altair’s lap. He moaned softly into the kiss, fingers sliding into Altair’s hair and tongue playing with another and then, without warning, Altair was rolling his hips into Malik’s backside and pulling the breeches from his waist.   
  
So, this was Altair trying to out-do Malik at his little games, was it? Malik smirked and reached under him, expertly untying Altair’s breeches and flicking them down to the man’s knees. Altair didn’t seem fazed at all by the behaviour, he actually chuckled and lowered himself back down against the rafiq, pressing himself firmly between Malik’s legs and began to roll his hips again.  
  
“More.” Malik found himself groaning quite freely.  
  
No verbal response came from the Grand Master as he grabbed Malik by his hips and sank his canines into the corded muscle around Malik’s jugular. The rafiq threw back his head and let out a shaky breath as the mark was bitten, sucked and licked until it was visible even in the thick darkness of night. Altair pulled back, licking his lips to appreciate his work, which he seemed happy with as a grin soon spread across his face.  
  
“Mm-bastard, I will have all kinds of brothers asking me where I got this mark- they will think I am courting a woman.” Malik groaned and grabbed Altair’s hair tightly, pulling him back down and snapping his teeth hard into the man’s skin. Baring his fangs, Altair sucked in his pride and allowed Malik to mark him back with far more strength he had used. He gasped sharply when Malik broke away and lapped at the abused skin.

 

“Hn! And they will think I am courting a damn lion with this bite.” Altair groaned as he pulled away and rubbed the bruise on his neck. Malik didn’t look the slightest bit guilty as he sat up and gave the bruise a gentle kiss.   
  
“Now, look at me Altair.” He grasped the man’s chin tight and forced him into eye contact. “I want more… And you will give it to me.”  
  
Altair looked from Malik’s lips to his eyes, before smirking and licking the thumb resting just under his lower lip. The heat that filled Malik’s eyes was instantaneous.   
  
But so was the opening of the door. It slammed open so hard, the dagger trigger was set off and the weapon hit the floor with a resounding bang. Malik found himself staring into the sheets, Altair pressing over him protectively, or was it to hide him? He didn’t know.  
  
“Mentor, I apologise, but it is Master Malik. He is missing from his quarters and not a soul can find him.” It was Rauf.  
  
“He is a grown man, I am positive he is fine.”  
  
“His robes are in his room and also his sword. It is like someone has taken him from his bed in the night-”  
  
“Give me a moment and I will be there… I am… in the middle of something.” Altair replied awkwardly, his hips shifting as he pulled his penis from Malik’s in hopes it would go flaccid. Malik couldn’t see the look on Rauf’s face as Altair made it clear he was with someone, but he could guess it was along the lines of; disturbed, embarrassed, yet slightly aroused.  
  
“Ah, yes, Master.” Rauf muttered and it sounded like the man was grinning, but again, Malik couldn’t see to confirm that. The door clicked shut and a long string of grumbled curses escaped Altair as he pulled himself from Malik and the bed.  
  
“…’In the middle of something’..? Yes, I suppose that was true, you were between my legs and I doubt Rauf would have cared if you told him so, now I have to go find a place to magically emerge from because of you being a cock-sure Novice who refuses to let anyone know you were about to go balls deep into a big hairy man.” Malik hissed as angrily as he could as he tugged on his breeches and headed for the window.   
  
“Malik, our brothers either dislike or suspect me enough for _burning_  Al Mualim’s body, they do not need further reason to revolt, such as their Master being a ‘sexual deviant’, especially when the brotherhood teaches against such things-”  
  
“The _brotherhood_ teaches against such things? _The brotherhood!?_ Altair, _Al Mualim_ taught against such things! Al Mualim, the same man who allied with the Knights Templar. The same man who sent our brother, Kadar, to his death knowing full well of his mortality! The same man who thought it was right to tear our future generation Assassins from their mothers at the age of 4 years old- 4 fucking years old!!” Malik seethed and pulled the shutters aside and stepped up onto the ledge. “The same man, who crippled me, put a knife through your belly and who is still taking the lives of our brothers he destroyed the minds of with the apple! And you believe I am in the wrong because I wish for the love and comfort of a man, not a woman?”  
  
“Malik I-”   
  
“No, I think I understand it all quite clearly, Altair. When you wish to play hide and seek, I will be on the top of the castle.” And with that said, the rafiq pulled himself from the window and headed up the tower to perch on the top until Altair decided to find him.

  
Chapter 4:

 

“So, this is what you want, huh? A quick fuck in my dreams and then what?”  
  
“Malik, shut up. You make it sound like you do not want me.”  
  
“I don’t.” Came the curt reply.

 

Kadar had the sensibility to look hurt, before his fingers were working across Malik’s shoulders and down his one and a bit arms. He concentrated on the stump, twirling his fingers around the end and scratching lightly across the scars. Malik bared his teeth at the action.   
  
This wasn’t his brother, he knew it and so he didn’t treat him like he would Kadar. It was just an incubus in his dreams, tormenting him until he either stopped sleeping altogether, or slit his own damn throat.  
  
“Yes, you do. Altair rejected you, and you know it. He made you all worked up and hungry and hard and then walked away. I can help you, why do you refuse me..?”  
  
“Because you are not real!” Malik snapped back, shoving the succubus in the chest.  
  
“You refuse me because I am not real? Not because I am your brother..?”  
  
“You are not my brother, you are a phantom- I have explained this before, I will not fall for it, so get out of my dreams, get out of my head!”   
  
“Ssssh….” Kadar sighed and leant forward, gently running his fingers into Malik’s hair and drifting them down his shoulders to his chest. “Peace, Malik…” He whispered soothingly. Malik felt himself relaxing under the comforting embrace. He pressed his forehead into the man’s chest and closed his eyes tight, feeling the heart within thumping back against his head.  
  
“Listen to me… Give me what I want and you will feel better for it. You have ignored me for so long, I feared you had forgotten what I looked like…”  
  
“How could I ever forget you..? You were so small when our father took us to Masyaf castle… You fit in my arms and I was only 8 years old. With our mother dead, I was the one to care for you, to bring you up and be the mother and father to you when our father was killed in action. I did the best I could to protect you from the truths of being an assassin that I am actually quite relieved Altair came along to throw reality in your face.”

He squeezed his eyes shut suddenly. This was not Kadar, and he had only given the incubus more ammunition to work with confessing such facts. It was not Kadar, his beautiful brother, the man was dead.   
  
The incubus remained silent as he settled back on Malik’s lap and came face to face with the man. He slid his fingers around Malik’s cheeks and pressed his lips lightly against the others. Malik kissed back for a moment, before he was grabbing the man by the hips and flipping them over. Kadar whimpered gently as Malik pushed himself as far as he could go into the incubus and dug his hand into the cushions beside his head.  
  
“So, what will happen if I give you what you want? Will you leave me be?” Malik panted, lips trailing down the phantom’s neck and worrying a tendon between his teeth.  
  
“Is that what you want?” Kadar muttered. The pain in his voice was clear, but that could have been his imagination, or the incubus clearly playing games with him.   
  
“I want you out of my dreams.”  
  
“I suppose you will want me out of Altair’s dreams as well then.”

 

                                                                        ***

 

Malik could still hear his brother’s voice in his ears, uttering the single sentence that now haunted him. Sitting at the Grand Master’s desk, staring down at the pile of parchments before him did nothing to deafen the voice and soon he became sure he was reading the words themselves from the papers before him.   
  
Was Altair truly suffering the same dreams as him? What was Kadar doing to Altair in his dreams, better yet, what was _Altair_  doing? He could understand why Altair didn’t want to tell him, sure but-  
  
Wait, why was he falling for the incubus’ words?  
  
His hand had been making stress-induced travels up and down his scalp for the better half of the morning and his hair now stood in a choppy mess, but he didn’t care. Let the world see him dishevelled and stressed, he wouldn’t hide it, and he couldn’t if he wanted to. The dark circles around his eyes were testament to that.   
  
“Master Malik-”  
  
“Leave.” He snapped immediately.  
  
“But, Master Malik, this is of the utmost importance.” It was Abbas. Malik barely wanted to hear the man’s voice, let alone have the man speaking directly to him. The Assassin _guard_ was an arrogant, selfish, over religious prick and had already risked the brotherhood’s safety by unleashing the Power of the Apple with no clue as to how to control it. It took Altair’s limited knowledge to tame the Apple and stop it from destroying more minds than it already had.  
  
Long story short, Malik didn’t like the man.

 

“What is it, be out with it.” He growled as he reluctantly pulled his face up from the paperwork.  
  
“Rauf and his novices have been attacked. We must hurry.”  
  
Malik bolted up from his chair, hand going to the pummel of his sword as the chair clattered to the ground. “Where is Altair..?” He growled and quickly made his way down the stairs. Abbas followed at his heels and quickly relayed the information he knew of.  
  
“He is somewhere in the kingdom outside of Masyaf. I do not know where. I heard he has left in hopes of setting up trade routes between us and surrounding cities again, what with our resources running low. What a fine time to procrastinate?”  
  
“I hardly call that procrastinating. And I highly doubt Altair knew anything of an impending attack.” Malik snapped in return as he waved his hand at a few guards to follow. “Where are Rauf and the novices?”  
  
“North of the river, he was teaching them how to fight in water. An older novice managed to escape the skirmish and made it to us. He was injured.”  
  
“How old..?”   
  
“Nine, Master.”  
  
“Will he live?”   
  
“The doctors are with him now, but it seems he has escaped with only a broken leg.” Abbas answered as Malik ordered a stable hand to quickly rally up the number of horses needed for him and the guards. “What will you have me do?”  
  
“Ride out and find Altair, tell him what has happened, no doubt he will want to be told of this immediately. Now go!” Malik snapped and lifted himself up onto his horse. The beast had been tamed to only Malik, so was literally known as Malik’s horse as the black stallion bucked off any other rider without hesitation. With its rider secure, the horse immediately responded to the sharp jab in its sides, kicking its hooves up and setting off in a gallop up the slope leading away from Masyaf.  
  
The ride to the river was rough and frantic. The horses didn’t falter regardless of the jagged route to the most Northern bend of the river that cut through the mountains, they were true Assassin horses, tough to startle and hard-wearing. The horses hadn’t even broken a sweat from the hour of hard-riding, proving their stamina for certainty as Malik pulled up upon the scene of the attack.   
  
“Master Malik!” Rauf called from his crowd of Novices.   
  
“Rauf, brother! What has happened!? You sent word of an attack!”  
  
“Yes! The Bastards are still scattered around Syria, it seems. Templars, I mean. A Captain had set up a camp with around 9 of the heathens in the surrounding areas, he and who I am sure are all of his men now lie dead around us.” Rauf huffed in disgust. He moved forward and his novices followed him to the now dismounted Second-in-command like ducklings.  
  
“How many are injured, do you have casualties?”  
  
“I think only the boy who rode out to you. Let me tell you, Malik, it was brilliant. The boy was like an eagle, soaring down upon the mounted Templar and cutting his throat. Given, he fell off the horse with the Templar’s corpse and limped from there, but his technique… Truly, it was beautiful!”  
  
Malik stared at the lecturer, before shaking his head and blinking. “So only that boy?” He looked around to the bodies now littering the river bank. He counted the dead, before sighing and shaking his head. “Why are they still here..?” It was a rhetorical question, Rauf noted, but he stepped forward to answer regardless.  
  
“With Robert De Sable dead and the Templars in disarray, it is clear that there are no resources left to gather the scattered men and ship them off home. They have been left to fend for themselves. Why they have not simply blended with society to survive in what must be strange lands for them is beyond me. They continue to fight for their cause regardless of dwindling numbers. But I suppose if they wish to be the rabbit to the hunter, so be it.” Rauf sighed and turned to his flock novices, giving a quick head-count minus the boy who had played messenger.  
  
“I have sent for Altair. He was away from Masyaf when your messenger came. Depending on how fast they find him, he should be he-”  
  
“Taheer!?” Rauf suddenly called out.   
  
He felt the cold chill suddenly rocket down his spine as the novices looked among themselves, chirping quietly before looking back to their Master, Rauf.   
  
“He is not amongst us, Master…” One of them whimpered.   
  
“You, men..!” Malik snapped as he spun on his heel to face two of the four guards who followed. “Take these novices back to Masyaf, protect them with your lives, is that understood?”  
  
The instructed guards bowed and swiftly rounded up the very young and confused novices.  
  
“Take all the horses to get to Masyaf quickly and once the novices are safe in Masyaf, only then return with the horses.” Rauf added to Malik’s command. The guards looked to the ex-rafiq for confirmation of the order, and the man nodded once, before turning to the shrubbery surrounding the river bank.   
  
“They probably took the novice during the attack.” Rauf muttered as he headed into the brush with Malik and the two guards.  
  
“You two, stay at the river bank, we cannot risk the bastards drowning the poor novice whilst we search the surrounding area.” The two guards gave curt nods before retreating to the river bank. “Do not blame yourself, Rauf.”  
  
“It is hard not to when they are all my responsibility.”  
  
“And I am sure there would be fatalities today if they were someone else’s responsibility, brother.” Malik took a moment to glance at Rauf as he pushed on through the brush slowly, footsteps carefully placed and every movement planned for complete silence. “You did well to protect them.”  
  
“I doubt Altair will see it the same way.”  
  
“Altair struggles to see anything the same way I do, but that is simply his retarded mind.”  
  
Rauf bit his lips inwards to hold his laughter, but a snort escaped inadvertently.  
  
“What was that?” A voice up ahead called out.  
  
“Will you shut up?! Those blasted infidels are probably still on the river. They probably ‘aven’t got a clue one of their little buggers are missing, and I’d rather keep it that way.”  
  
Malik and Rauf shared a glance, before they pushed forward through the brush and crouched down into the thick reeds sprouting around a boggy clearing. The rain season had just drawn to a close, but Masyaf would be witnessing wet conditions all the way up until snow claimed the land in late winter, making Masyaf a muddy marsh land pending spring.   
  
Malik was reminded of this as he felt water seep into his battered boots from crouching in the ankle-high sludge.  
  
“Where is Taheer..?” He heard Rauf hiss beside him. Malik shook his head and leant forward, eyes squinting as he concentrated hard on the scene before him.

Two soldiers stood beside a horse whose saddlebags were heavy with what Malik guessed where necessities for survival out in the bush. A small tent stood close to a long extinguished fire and off to the side was a hole dug into the earth for… Malik refused to linger on that thought. He knew what it was for, he could smell it from here.  
  
“How much do you think a slaver will pay for the boy then..?” One of the soldiers asked.

 

“Slaver..? Sounds like too much trouble to me. I say we cut the little shit to ribbons and send a message to those sand-niggers on the hill.”  
  
The world around him blinked to a dull grey as Malik tapped into his vastly unused and limited second-sight. The two soldiers shone a bright red as the sight flickered like a candle caught in a draft. He searched the area as best he could before a sharp flash of pain had him pulling out of his second-sight. The effort to hold it was too much. The technique needed refining that was clear.

How did Altair make it look so easy? But he had gathered the information he had sought after at least. He felt Rauf’s hand on his arm as he drew his head from his hand, blinking rapidly and focusing his gaze again.  
  
“Taheer is in the large s-sack on the horse’s saddle.” Malik whispered. “If we take out the two soldiers, it should be safe to grab the boy and run.”   
  
“Then the men shall die…” Rauf muttered as he slowly pulled himself into a prime attacking position.   
  
“We strike in unison. We have the element of surprise on our side, yes, but they are paranoid.” Malik muttered as he followed Rauf’s position and pressed his hip into the raised earth beside him to muffle the hiss of his sword slipping free of its scabbard.   
  
“So, your plan, Master?” Rauf murmured.  
  
Malik bit his lip as he thought. Eventually he rested his sword against the ground and fished into his robes. Rauf gave the ex-rafiq a cautious glance before the man was pulling a throwing knife from his belt and steadying himself in his crouch.  
  
“Take down the soldiers, I will chase the horse-”  
  
“What?”

“Meet me back at the riverbank when you have taken their lives.”  
  
Malik let the single throwing knife he had left in his belt fly, ignoring Rauf’s startled response. If he had more than just one throwing knife, he would have taken the soldiers down with them, but with only one, he couldn’t risk the remaining guard putting his sword through the novice in retaliation.  
  
The horse reared up as the throwing knife struck it in its rump, forcing a harsh whinny from the horse. It bolted as the soldiers turned at the outburst, leaving the soldiers with no hostage and no hopes of escape as Rauf burst forth from the brush and threw himself into massacring the men who had taken his fledgling.   
  
Malik didn’t get to see what was surely a blood bath as he sprinted after the fleeing horse. The horse was of European origin, so was naturally heavy and strong, but not fast. It was a horse made for pulling carts and for general farm work, maybe long-distance convoys, but definitely not for racing. The horse was also clumsy, whether that was because of the pain in its rump, the boggy earth it galloped on, or the fact it was so large, Malik didn’t know, but he soon found himself gaining on the beast.  
  
“Whoa, whoa!” Malik called as the horse began to panic and slip in the slurry. With the novice still in the sack on the horse’s side, having the animal fall would probably crush the poor boy under its vast weight. The horse steadied itself and finally came to a slow walk as its stamina left it completely. Malik sighed hard and caught up with the beast, placing a reassuring hand, his only hand, on the animal’s flank and walking beside it until the whites of its eyes had disappeared.   
  
With the… mare, Malik noticed, calm, he pulled his hand away and took the reins.  
  
“Be good.”  He muttered, giving its nose a quick rub before he moved to the saddle bags. Loosening the straps with only one hand was annoying, to say the least, but he did finally manage to work them open.   
  
“TEMPLAR!!!” Came the war cry as the young novice erupted from the sack and slammed the heels of his little hands into Malik’s forehead knocking him back against the tree behind him.   
  
Not just a little bit dizzy, the rafiq slouched forward and rubbed the back of his head.  
  
“Aaah…” He seethed before straightening up and fixing the little novice with the most annoyed face he could manage when he was seeing at least 4 of the novice at that moment.  
  
“Master Malik!” The novice, Taheer, Malik recalled, yelped from where he was currently hanging out of the saddle bag. The horse gave a grunt at the unbalanced weight on its back and stepped to the side, away from Malik.   
  
The rafiq sighed in relief and stepped through the shin-high mud to where the novice was now straightening up and trying to get out of the saddle bag. Malik found the boy had been tied by his hands and feet, hence why the boy hadn’t been able to escape on his own and quickly pulled his sword to cut him free.  
  
The young novice had been brave given his age, Malik recognised this immediately as he was reminded just how young this novice truly was. A small set of arms, still soft with puppy-fat wrapped around his neck as he finished untying the boy’s feet.   
  
“Thank you, Master Malik.” Taheer murmured into his neck and held on like his life depended on it. Malik hesitated, his only arm supporting the boy hanging from his neck and he wondered briefly how he was going to get back to Rauf with the ground so willing to slip him with his balance so off.   
  
Regardless of his concerns, he began his trek back towards the now abandoned campsite, his legs sinking almost to the tops of his boots as he went. The soft thudding of horse shoes behind him had him glancing back to find the large European bred horse following him, careful not to get too close either out of fear of Malik and his novice, or concern over knocking the man off balance, Malik didn’t know, he wasn’t a horse whisperer.   
  
“Master Malik, did you come all this way to save me..?” The fledgling around his neck asked. Malik gave the novice a quick glance, before smiling softly and shifting the boy onto his back.  
  
“Hold on tightly.” He called and began to use his now free arm to pull against trees and rocks to move forward faster through the bog. The horse remained at his heels for the journey back and after what seemed like an hour or so, he found his way back through to the campsite.  
  
“Rauf!” Malik called and took a quick scan of the area. It was quiet.  
  
“Taheer.”   
  
“Yes, Master Malik?” The child answered politely. Malik lowered himself and allowed Taheer to slip off his back.   
  
“How many men were here when they took you from Master Rauf?” He asked as a distinct feeling of foreboding filled him. The boy hesitated, eyes going up to the tree tops as he thought.  
  
“Master Rauf killed all of them except the two men who took me and the big man.”  
  
“The big man..?” Malik cringed in confusion.   
  
“Yeah, he was in the tent when the horse startled.”  
  
Malik stared at the boy for a few moments, before he was straightening up and approaching the tent cautiously.   
  
“Master Malik…” Taheer all but whimpered as he watched the man draw his sword and advance on the mouth of the tent. His heart pushed up against the back of his throat the closer he got, but he soon managed to reign in his nerves and drew the tent flap aside with his sword.  
  
Empty.  
  
Malik felt the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding escape him swiftly.

 

“Master!!” He suddenly heard Taheer scream and then a harsh weight crashed into his backside and sent him tumbling into the small tent, knocking the very air from his lungs.   
  
“Looking for me, were you!?” A cruel voice crackled over him. Malik struggled, coughing and pressing his knees up hard to buck the monster of a man off his hips. “Don’t struggle, infidel, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”  
  
The man was big, it was clear Taheer hadn’t been exaggerating thanks to his small stature. Malik kicked out his feet and tried to reach his sword which had been thrown free of his hand by the mountain of a man colliding with him.   
  
“Oh, I don’t think so.” The Templar brute laughed and pressed his large knee over the sword to block Malik from retrieving it. “You Assassins and your blades… Take one from the other and what are you in the end? You’re nothing but rats in the sand with a fancy fortress to breed and spread your words of diseased beliefs within.” The man leaned close to Malik’s face, his free hand grabbing at Malik’s jaw whilst the other held down the only arm he had left to fight with.

 

“You berate me for my beliefs when you are one of the kind who _forces_ the masses to believe your glorified tales of the bible! You take the words written there far out of context and use it to take control of the people! We strive for freedom, a far nobler cause than the one corrupted men like you seek!”

 

Malik only earned a sharp slap to his face for his efforts. He tasted blood on his tongue and pushed it against the inside of his cheek where he felt a shallow cut caused by his own teeth bleeding steadily into his mouth. He gathered what he could before the man opened his mouth to speak again and spat a healthy amount of blood and saliva into the man’s face and lips.  
  
“You filthy little Arab!” The brute snarled and grabbed Malik’s sword out from under his knee.

 Malik opened his mouth to shout something, he didn’t know what, but he wasn’t given the chance to find out as his own sword was thrust down into his belly with a meaty thud and impaled him against the ground. Instead of the shout of something heroic or insulting Malik had hoped for, a fine spray of blood choked out of his mouth in its place.  
  
“Master Malik!!” A child screamed near him.   
  
The Templar brute simply grinned at him, watching his eyes, waiting for the life to fade from them as they began to cloud over.   
  
“Look at you… Still fighting and alive… Why is that? Are you frightened I will hurt your precious little boy when you die?” He chuckled darkly. His arm disappeared behind him for a moment and returned with Taheer clutched tightly by the throat in his grip. “Don’t worry. I plan to kill the boy for you to see before you do depart.”  
  
“Leave h-him.” Malik seethed as his hand reached for Taheer, who whimpered, gurgled and choked against the man’s powerful grip around his small throat. “Let him go!!” He snarled and brought his hand to the blade of his own sword. With the brute so preoccupied with strangling the life from Taheer, Malik managed to pull the blade free from his guts with a meaty rip. Blood immediately spurt forth from his wound, but he gave it no more attention as he grasped the handle of his sword with his sliced and bloodied hand and slammed it through and through the brute’s neck.   
  
Malik pulled back on the sword with a roar and thrust the sword into the man’s neck again and again. The blood sprayed around the tent as Malik retrieved his sword from the gaping hole that used to balance a head and kicked the massive body backwards out of the tent. Taheer, choking and crying openly, crawled to Malik’s side and pulled his head from the floor.  
  
“Master.” He whimpered and brought his arm up to wipe his tears. “Can you walk? We need to get you to safety.”  
  
“I believe so…” Malik muttered and propped himself up on his stump, his only hand moving to his belly to clutch his bleeding wound. “Take my sword for me.” He watched as Taheer approached the body of the brute and carefully picked up the weapon. He quickly retreated back to Malik, who took his sword and cut open the tent. He was in no condition to crawl over 300 lbs plus men, so an improvised exit was the only other option. Sliding his sword into the scabbard, Malik dragged himself free from the tent and watched how Taheer came over and carefully took Malik’s arm in hopes of helping him up. But the child was so small that it took several tries before Malik was successfully on his feet.  
  
But for how long, he wondered.  
  
The next 10 minutes felt like days as the world spun and blurred ahead of him. The only area around him that was in focus was the ground directly below him. He watched how his feet sunk in to the mud, but then slowly started to gain ground again the further away they walked from the marsh land to the river bank. Soon, pebbles started to crunch beneath his feet, the smoothed stones merged and swirled into an array of pastille tones.

 His heart was throbbing in his ears and his fingertips soon became cold even as the warm blood oozing from the wound continuously dripped over them. He felt how his body had begun to quiver from the exertion of a gentle walk, his breath loud and ragged to even himself.

 

“Master Rauf!” Taheer’s shaken voice cried. “Master Rauf, please, Master Malik needs help!” And again, Malik was reminded all too swiftly of Taheer’s years as the boy began to openly cry and tug on his black rafiq robe as if to hurry him. Malik lifted his gaze from the ground to find everything blended into an off-white blur, with only a few figures close enough to gain any sort of recognition in Malik’s distorted sight.  
  
“Malik!!” A voice barked in what sounded like a shocked tone. It sounded so familiar, but the voice didn’t fit with any of the faces he had seen at the River that day. A Templar? No, the man was speaking perfect Arabic, as if he had spoken it from birth. His mind had been so clouded by his own thoughts, that by the time a firm set of hands were on him, he was on his back and wasn’t entirely sure how he’d gotten there. His knees hurt and so did his remaining hand, so he must have fallen.   
  
“Malik, shit… Shit!” That familiar, yet unrecognisable voice was calling to him again. They sounded so scared, yet he couldn’t say a thing to ease their fears as his words were nothing but ribbons of blood from his throat now.  
  
“Get him on the horse!” Someone shouted.   
  
“Master Altair, m’sorry.” A young child sobbed openly.

 

And then the darkness took mercy and finally swallowed Malik into the abyss.

 

Chapter 5:

 

“Malik…” The weight, it was back. The tightness around his penis had returned and he immediately looked up to meet the crystal blue eyes watching him.  
  
“There is more to sex that simply having a penis inside you, Incubus, I am sure you know of this.” Malik responded.  
  
“‘Hello, brother, how are you today, haven’t spoken to you in years, what have you been up to, how has death been for you?’ You always were the conversationalist…” The incubus groaned.  
  
“And you begin every conversation by impaling yourself on my penis, your argument is invalid.” Malik growled, before rolling on top of his brother’s phantom and pulling out swiftly. “You said in our last meeting that you were in Altair’s dreams also. Is this true?” He inquired.  
  
“Altair actually gives me what I want in his dreams. It is fun. Sometimes he gets so confused and ends up screaming your name as he comes… oh… the look on his face after is just too funny.” Kadar grinned and ran his hand down underneath Malik’s chest to his stomach, then lower as he found Malik’s penis and stroked it.   
  
“Uh, he fucks you?” Malik grunted, pulling back to his haunches. Kadar didn’t stop his ministrations as he continued to massage the organ in his palm, watching how the ex-rafiq grew breathless and rocked his hips lightly into the touch.  
  
“We do whatever we please. He fucks me, I fuck him… At the end of the day, we are both satisfied and he wakes up a happier man.” The incubus replied.  
  
“And do you think what you are doing to me is making me happier? Do you think doing this to me whenever I sleep is funny?” Malik snarled and lowered himself down. “Listen to my words, Incubus. I will not fuck you in this image. I will not fuck my own brother. It is disgusting that you even believe such a thing. So take form of another person.”  
  
“And here in lies the problem, Malik. You are so convinced it is not me that you are ready to believe a incubus haunts you instead. Our bond when I died was so strong… When you held me as I died, you cried… You wept for me and I saw just how destroyed you were and how badly my death was going to take over your life… I wanted to stay with you… And so, here I am.” Kadar smiled warmly and opened himself to Malik, feeling the man press up between his legs.  
  
“My brother would not try to sleep with me, you imply my brother is depraved like me- he enjoyed women, he had women and you cannot convince me otherwise!” Malik shouted as his hand clawed into the sheets beside Kadar’s head. There was silence as Kadar frowned and turned his face away, just as he did when Malik used to scream at him, which was a rare occurrence.  
  
No! This wasn’t Kadar, it just wasn’t!  
  
“I want you to leave both Altair and I alone. I will not fall for your seduction, Incubus.”  
  
“I am not an Allah damned Incubus!!!” Kadar suddenly screamed. “I have missed you so much, Malik and now that I have you here, seeing me, hearing and touching me, I just… I want you so much! I cannot control my body, I want you inside me and I do not care how much of a whore you believe me to be! But I am your brother, Malik… If only in your dreams, but I am here…” His fingers slid over Malik’s stump, gently running his thumb over the largest scar there.  
  
“… No…” Malik muttered and slowly leant down even as he refused to believe his brother’s presence. He kept his eyes open, staring into the crystal sapphire as they gazed back, clouded with lust. “Why do you give yourself to Altair?” He moaned.  
  
“He is the closest thing I have to you… I try not to think he is fucking me, instead, I replace him with you in my mind’s eye. But then he moans and my illusions are destroyed. I only want you.” Kadar sighed and leant up, pressing his lips softly to his brothers. “I may exist only in your dreams, and Altair’s, but that does not mean I am any less human than you.”   
  
“How human can you truly be if you ignore our blood and seduce me regardless..?” Malik moaned and shifted to press himself hard against Kadar’s backside. The man squirmed in response.

“How can you be punished for something you do in your dreams, Malik…? You have laws and crimes in real life, but never in your dreams for you have technically never done it… But we can feel the pleasures it reaps… and not suffer the consequences it sews.”  
  
“You speak in circles.” Malik muttered and stared down to his brother. He cringed, trying to wake from this dream like he had been able to do plenty of times before, but he couldn’t now. “Oh sweet Allah…” He shuddered. “Am I dead..?”  
  
“No.” Kadar smiled. “If you were, we would truly be together in a far more forgiving place than your own mind…” He grunted as he rolled his eyes at the surrounding darkness. “But you are close to death… That Templar dealt more damage than you realise… It is up to you to fight to survive. I am here to help.”

“And how do you plan to do that, exactly? Sleep with me until I emerge from my dead man’s sleep?” Malik snarled and leant closer, his nose brushing with Kadar’s.  
  
“You are too stressed, too angry and confused… To recover your body, your mind must also be at peace… Perhaps if you were sated, you would be too dazed to care of your troubles.” Kadar proposed.  
  
“YOU are my biggest trouble! Why do you not haunt someone else, Incubus..? Maybe then I will have the peace I need to recover!” Malik snapped.  
  
“I. AM. NOT. AN. INCUBUS...” Kadar growled between clenched teeth. “You are still stubborn! When will you realise I am your brother, Kadar Al-Sayf, the boy who choked up vomit on your robes after my first kill and punched Altair in the privates for laughing at me.”  
  
Malik drew his face up from leaning so close to the man. He visibly cringed at the revelation and wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him.  
  
“You are in my head, of course you know of such things.” Malik eventually murmured. A frustrated cry escaped Kadar as Malik still refused to believe him. He punched the man in the shoulder and grasped him tight by the cheeks.  
  
“I am your brother, Malik Al-Sayf. I am in your head and I do not know of how I was preserved here, but I just am. I cannot lie to you, Malik, you know that… I love you so much…” The man swallowed and looked away, eyes shining with what looked like tears as he blinked rapidly. “I understand it is hard to believe… but please… do not abandon me.” He sniffed and looked up to his brother again, fingers still cupping his face as his thumbs brushed against Malik’s cheekbones.  
  
“It makes no sense…” The elder Al-Sayf finally whispered, his expression visibly softening as he began to accept who the person below him was. “Why would you want to do this with me..?”  
  
“What in this world makes any sense, brother? Whom do we harm if we give in to this desire? I have overcome the fear of such a strong emotion that should be suppressed because it harms no one! I am dead, I have no real body, but I have you, brother, and your dreams…” A sad smile filled Kadar’s lips as a few tears ran from his eyes into his boyish hair. “You have to believe me, brother, please…”   
  
Malik gazed down to the man. He felt his heart clench within his chest at the tears spilling over Kadar’s cheeks and soon found himself wiping and rubbing the tears away. He leant down, hesitantly and brushed a chaste kiss against his brother’s lips and pulled away when Kadar let out a sob.   
  
“You believe me…” He shuddered, raking his fingers into his brother’s raven hair.  
  
“Yes…” Malik replied, before sighing and glancing down between them. “But… this is something I cannot do… You are my blood, my baby brother and to have sex with you would be…” Malik stopped and shook his head.  
  
“Do I disgust you with my desires..?” Kadar whispered, fingers still massaging against his brother’s scalp to feel the soft hair growing there. “What frightens you so..?”  
  
“Our blood-”  
  
“I think it is safe to say my blood has long since returned to the earth, along with the rest of my body. I am your brother, yes… that will never change, but it is only your mind stopping us now…” Kadar worked his hand down between them and squeezed himself tight. “Mmn… I long for you… my body is on fire with need.”   
  
Malik couldn’t pull himself from his staring.  
  
“You touch and caress Altair until he comes, the man you used to hate and wish death upon, but you cannot touch me? I am your brother, the man who never harmed or betrayed you.”  
  
Malik took a hard swallow and lowered his head, feeling the shame creeping into his mind.   
  
“I love him…” Malik finally whispered and squeezed his eyes shut. “I promised myself I would not become attached, I know he is not of my preferences and I know he will leave me for a woman who can give him everything he deserves, but that still does not extinguish the fire that will forever burn in my heart for him.”  
  
Kadar smiled as he watched his brother expose his deepest emotions.  
  
“I tease him. I pin him down and provoke him to come. I make advances hidden beneath mirth and fun and … And when he kissed me after I came to his bed in the dead of night, regardless of how tired he was or how much he wished to return to sleep, I felt something inside me quench. I still have plenty of holes left within, but Altair felt like molten metal, spreading to gaps I never knew could be filled and then hardening… But it is a fragile replacement and I fear watching him leave for a woman will shatter it.”  
  
“You hold so many burdens upon your shoulders, brother… Does it feel better now that you have shared it?” Kadar whispered as his hand pulled Malik down and pressed a kiss across his lips. “Altair has done nothing to deserve you… he has done nothing but take, you must make him realise his selfishness.” Kadar paused and looked down, smiling. “I think almost being murdered by a Templar has made him realise this… I think he has realised he has taken advantage of you… He has stumbled upon feelings similar to your own… but he is frightened of them.” Kadar gave his brother eye contact again and pushed upwards, claiming Malik’s lips in a deeper kiss. He felt a small moan escape him as Malik pushed back into the kiss, his plush lips opening to Kadar’s tongue and tasting the foreign saliva spreading across his own.  
  
“You must wake up Malik…” Kadar moaned as they slowly separated. A dazed rafiq looked back to him, before those kiss bruised lips were smiling and touching his own lightly.   
  
“Be ready for the pain, brother…”  
  
“What pain..?” Malik blinked as Kadar began to fade into the black.  
  
“You are waking up.”  
  
Malik reached for his brother, but no longer found purchase against him. The sheets beneath him suddenly gave way and then he was falling.   
  
Falling away from his dreams…

Down, down, down…

 

                                                                          ***

 

“Taheer, why are you not in bed..?” Altair frowned as he came into the room.   
  
He remembered the boy clearly. It was the fledgling Malik had been almost killed trying to protect. The poor novice had been too scared to speak following the attack and Altair didn’t blame him. He had seen the aftermath of Malik protecting the novice. It had taken him a good while of searching until he finally found the hole in the ground the Templar Brute’s head had rolled off into.   
  
He refrained cringing at the scene now.

 

Taheer’s head bolted up to the Grand Master and he immediately scrambled off the seat he had been sitting on beside the one-armed man’s bed. He had been keeping vigil, Altair realised.  
  
He also found the boy was frightened of his presence. Altair refused to think of why, he hadn’t done anything to the boy. He had only met the novice once and that was when Malik had first been dragged from the bush bleeding out onto the pebbles.  
  
“Peace, Taheer…” Altair smiled, before he approached the bed and placed a hand across Malik’s forehead. “How long have you been here..?”  
  
The boy didn’t answer. He hadn’t spoken since the attack. The doctors had looked at his throat, which still was dark with bruises, and had come to the conclusion that the boy was not speaking because he didn’t want to, not because he couldn’t. Altair had scoffed at their diagnosis. He knew why the boy didn’t speak. Taheer didn’t speak because he associated the sound of his own voice with the memory of the attack. The boy was scarred for life.  


Altair sighed and knelt down to the boy, pushing the hood from his head to appear less threatening. “You must speak again soon. Malik will want to hear you greet him when he awakes.” 

He watched as Taheer turned his head to look back at Malik. Altair followed his gaze to observe the ex-rafiq. He was naked beneath the sheets, his belly bundled with bandages and his face bruised on one side. Altair let his eyes drift to the bite mark still visible on Malik’s neck. The doctors had questioned it, but Altair had simply ordered them to stop judging the man and save him instead.   
  
He could still remember the cold bolt of reality when the doctors cut away Malik’s robes and exposed the true extent of his injuries. He still didn’t know officially what had happened as Taheer refused to speak and Malik was far from a worthy condition in general, so he was only on guess work at that time.   
  
Altair had returned to the campsite the second he knew Malik was in good hands to find any clues as to who had hurt his second-in-command. But with all the men from the campsite dead, he only had the few scraps of parchment found within the horse’s saddlebags to go by. They had been useless notes and journal entries describing the hardships they faced since Robert De Sable’s death, nothing of value. It had been a meaningless attack born from grudges between sides, Altair concluded.   
  
As he surfaced from his thoughts, he found himself sitting beside Malik on the bed and gently running the back of his fingers down the rafiq’s cheek. Taheer stood beside him against the bed with his tiny hands weaved into the fingers of Malik’s remaining hand. Still, he did not utter a word.

 

“Have you been here since the doctors stopped Malik’s bleeding..?” Altair asked. Taheer looked up to him and gave a soft nod, before shrugging and looking down again.  
  
“So, most of the time, correct?”  
  
Another nod.  
  
“Taheer, it is late now. Master Rauf expects you back in his flock in the morning, you cannot stay awake here with Master Malik.” Altair explained. The boy turned and looked up to him with eyes that begged to be allowed to stay, but those same eyes also relayed just how tired the 6 year old was.   
  
“I will protect Malik as he sleeps…” Altair smiled fondly and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Do you trust me to take care of him?”   
  
Taheer seemed to hesitate as he thought. Altair watched how Taheer carefully pulled Malik’s hand from the bed and placed it against Altair’s knee. The childish innocence still remained in the novice, regardless of how traumatized he had been from the attack. Altair smiled as Taheer took his hand and placed it over Malik’s, squeezing his fingers until Altair found himself holding Malik’s hand tight in his own.  
  
The boy held their hands together and gave a firm shake of them, eyes in contact with Altair’s like he wished to say something but couldn’t.  
  
“I will stay here all night holding his hand. Is that what you have been doing..?”  
  
Taheer looked away and nodded as if ashamed.  
  
“I only wish I was as righteous and caring as you when I was your age.” Altair whispered almost to himself, then leant forward and rested his free hand on Taheer’s shoulder. “You have been very brave, novice. You have shown courage where others your age would only cry…” The fledgling looked up to him, eyes filled with childish awe. He was hearing such things from the Grand Master of the Order. He knew he should have said something in gratitude, but he simply could not. Instead, he tightened his grip on Altair’s hand and gave a small bow as thanks.  
  
“The Order thanks you for protecting Master Malik and dragging him out from danger… I personally am more grateful than most… Malik means a lot to me… More than anyone understands…” Altair trailed off before he spoke too much and looked back to Taheer, placing his free hand over the child’s on his and Malik’s interwoven fingers.  
  
“Get some rest, child. I will not leave him, you have my word.”  
  
Taheer watched Malik for a few seconds longer, before he was pulling away from the two men and bowing to Altair. The boy left the room after one last glance at Malik and the door clattered shut behind them. Altair found himself still smiling. If he ended up having children, he had every hope they would grow to be like Taheer. Honest, kind, brave and doting on those he hardly knew…  
  
True, the boy owed Malik his life, but even before then, Rauf had mentioned Taheer longed to be a ‘Master of the sword’ like Malik. They had joked about Taheer having to lose an arm first, but now it was clear just how much the boy idolised Malik.  
  
“I think you have yourself a little follower, Malik.” Altair chuckled quietly to himself. His eyes trailed down to the darker-skinned hand held tightly between his, then sighed and brought the fingers to his mouth. He kissed gently, eyes falling shut.   
  
“I have been so worried…” He murmured into the fingers against his lips. “You have the entire Order praying for your recovery…” Altair turned to look down to his oldest friend, keeping their hands firmly together as he leant down and pressed a soft kiss to Malik’s closed lips. His fingers swept down the ex-rafiq’s cheek to his neck and soon found the love bite with his fingertips, feeling the light scabbing from where his teeth had broken the skin.  
  
“You have me so confused.” Altair whispered and closed his eyes tight at the inner turmoil twisting in his guts. “Please… do not die, Malik… Not now... You know how much I need you.” His breath hitched before he was swallowing back the urge to break down and cry. The form beneath him shifted slightly, but it was enough to have him pulling away and standing beside the bed, hand still holding the other’s tight, tighter now that he felt Malik reacting to him.  
  
“Malik.” Altair called and placed his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Malik, wake up.”   
  
The Syrian turned his face to the side and cringed visibly, hand pulling free of Altair’s to grip his stomach tightly as he groaned.

 

As the onyx eyes opened up to him clouded with pain, but alive nonetheless, Altair realised the man was fighting. He would be alright. Altair smiled and leant down, kissing the man on the forehead softly.   
  
“Novice.”  
  
“He is fine, Malik.”   
  
“No, you.” Malik smirked through his pain, before furrowing his brows and pressing his hand harder into the wound. “Will I live..?” He asked the man over him.  
  
“That is up to you now.”  
  
“I will consider it, then.” The rafiq moaned and looked up to Altair again. They stared at each other for what seemed like a full hour, before Altair lowered himself carefully against the bed and brushed noses with the man. Malik smiled at the gesture and pressed his lips against Altair’s. The man wanted him to lead, how cute.  
  
As the Grand Master kissed deeply in to his Second’s lips, he felt a hand slide up his neck and into his hair. Malik felt his breath escape him quickly and pulled himself away, breathing sharp and raspy before something scratched at his throat and he was coughing painfully into his hand.  
  
Altair watched Malik for the rest of the night. He offered water when it was desired, helped Malik to relieve himself and tortured the man with the goings-on inside Masyaf that eventually put the ex-rafiq into a deep slumber. Altair chuckled when he found the man asleep and sat back in his chair before following the man’s example.

 

 

Chapter 6:

It had taken months of recovering before Malik was walking with only a slight limp. Altair had been there when he could, the Order still demanding more attention that Altair would have preferred to spend on aiding his friend’s recovery. But for the days Altair was absent, Taheer was there, without fail.   
  
Malik found himself growing more and more fond of the boy and soon developed a way of speaking to him that wasn’t just through nodding. Sign language, it was something the deaf used to converse with one another. Malik and Taheer studied it rigorously during Malik’s rehabilitation to keep his mind sharp, but to also converse quite freely.

 

It was how Malik found himself, limping with his walking stick towards the Master’s floor when he felt a tug on his rafiq robe. He glanced round and fixed the novice at his side with a disgruntled scowl before realising who it was under the hood.  
  
“Taheer!” He smiled and came to a halt. “How go your studies, child?”

 

_“They go well, Master Malik.”_   The boy replied with his hands. _“Master Rauf wishes for me to move up a class in my swordsmanship. I feel so honoured!”  
  
_ “So you should be.” Malik smiled and approached his and Altair’s desk. He lowered himself carefully into the chair and propped his walking stick against the desk, his hand going to his stomach immediately after. “Y-you are a fine swordsman… You are better than most journeymen who are twice your age. But do not let it go to your head. You must work hard! There is always room for improvement.” His hand moved up and swept over the parchments in front of him. “You must also be intelligent, you must learn from books and scrolls. Read the logs of Assassins. Admire their success and learn from their failures. Do not become arrogant and self-righteous. Only bad comes from such an attitude.” Malik lectured the boy, before cringing and pressing his hand to his stomach again.

 

_“I heard a few of the lecturers say I care too much for people to be an effective Assassin.”_   Taheer waited until he had Malik’s attention again until he signed to him.   
  
“I have seen men who pet kittens, give them kissy faces and roll around on rugs with them, then turn around, cut through 10 men’s throats in less time than it takes for them to eat a date and go back to the kittens again.” Malik gave a not so subtle nod towards Altair’s currently unoccupied chair. “The lecturers simply speak from their asses at times. Tell them they should spend less time airing their unwelcome opinions and more time teaching the ways of a true Assassin.”

 

Taheer smiled and silently laughed into his hand. The boy was completely mute vocally. He only made a noise if he was hurt, but hearing his voice caused the boy to cover his ears and start to cry. Malik hated that he couldn’t help him. He’d been nothing but helpless these past months.

 

The remaining Assassins whose minds had been destroyed by the Apple’s effects had eventually died. Two more Master Assassins, a Head guard and three scholars had succumbed and received burials worthy of heroes because that’s what Altair and Malik had believed them to be for fighting so long to escape the Apple’s destruction, only to be brought down in the end. The pain of their deaths still resonated around the Castle, but there was also relief that the men were no longer suffering, if they had been.  
  
He and Altair still wished they could have done something, anything to bring the men back from deaths door, but they had gotten no chance to do so.  
  
 _“I think if I say that to them, I will receive 3 lashes for my disrespect.”_  Taheer suddenly tugged on his arm to get his attention and then commenced to sign. _“You look distant, are you in pain..?”_ He asked with gestures.  
  
“I was simply thinking, child.” He muttered and returned his attention to the desk. “Have you written up your report on what happened at the campsite, yet?” He looked back to the boy.  
  
 _“Yes. I wrote it down in front of Grand Master Altair. He is slow at reading.”_  
  
Malik chuckled and nodded. “It is why I do this work for him, that and I wish for other factions to think we are actually educated, regardless of _some_.” Another hint towards Altair’s seat. “I do hope it was not painful for you to recall what happened.”

 

Taheer smiled softly, before his hands were back signing his words.  
  
 _“It was easy until I had to describe what that nasty Templar did to you.”_ The boy paused, hands mid-gesture before he shrugged and continued. _“Altair thought you had frightened me by what you did to the Templar, but it was what the Templar did to you”  
  
_ “You can forget such things now, Taheer. I am alive and you are safe.” Malik leant forward for the quill resting in the ink, cringing and teeth bared at the pain flaring up in his guts. “Aah.”  
  
“And you should be resting.” Came a voice. Malik glanced up at the source as the quill and ink were dragged further from his reach. Altair smirked from under his hood, his Black Grand master’s robes making him look not unlike the Reaper.   
  
“I am resting.” Malik growled curtly.  
  
“And you look very comfortable for it.” Altair mumbled sarcastically as he gestured to Malik’s slouched position and breathlessness. The man was a true mess. “Come, I will take you back to your quarters. Taheer, Rauf is serving his novices dinner, go get yours before there is nothing left.” Altair made his way to Malik’s side and pulled Malik’s remaining arm over his shoulders. Heaving the second-in-command to his feet, he found Taheer hesitating, reluctant to leave the man’s side.  
  
“He is safe with me, you trust me to take care of him, no..?” Altair called to Taheer as he supported Malik down the stairs.   
  
Taheer, of course, said nothing, but nodded and headed down the other set of stairs so as to not disrupt Altair and Malik’s path.   
  
“You should go after him.” Malik eventually murmured.  
  
“Who, Taheer?” Altair raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Yes. I do not think you made him feel unwelcome enough, perhaps you should follow him and make it really fucking clear.” Malik growled. “Just so he never forgets it.”  
  
Altair cringed beneath his hood, eyes rolling upwards for Allah’s mercy.  
  
“I apologise if it came off that way, but you _should_ be in bed resting. I have no issue with the boy, you are simply seeing things.  
  
“Regardless, I believe you and I need a serious talk.”  
  
Altair grimaced again and kicked Malik’s door shut behind him. “What about..?” He inquired. Malik pulled free and slowly limped to his desk, he pulled his chair out and sat on it, his hand holding his gut firmly.   
  
“Uh… about dreams…” Malik winced.  
  
Altair scowled for what seemed like an eternity, before he tugged down his hood and threw off his Grand Master robe. He walked over, grabbed a chair propped by the wall and turned it towards himself as he straddled it.  
  
“Yes. Let us talk about ‘dreams’. Shall we add fairy tales and politics to this conversation just to make it even more pointless? Look at you Malik! You are ill, you need rest! I see no reason to having this conversation!”  
  
“Yeah, well I do!” Malik suddenly snapped. “All this time you have hidden something from me in your dreams and I think you know full _fucking_ well what it is.”  
  
“This is madness, you are losing your mind.” Altair breathed sharply.  
  
“Maybe I am!” Malik threw his hand up in defeat, before it grasped his belly again. “But the dreams are far too real, the man is far too genuine and he has told me no lies, I know what you and he do!” Malik took a deep breath and released it before hanging his head.  
  
“I know… you have seen him too, in your dreams.”  
  
Altair looked away, biting his lip tight.  
  
“You have sex with him in your dreams and yet you ignore me. I am right here, I am real and yet you still refuse to touch me back!”  
  
“Malik, please…” Altair whispered.  
  
“No!” Malik cried. “Kadar has been haunting us both, sleeping with us in our dreams and he says you have yet to refuse him! You have been fucking my little brother’s phantom quite freely, so he has said, and …” Malik stopped talking as Altair lifted his head and rubbed a sleeve across his eyes. The man was in tears. Malik felt the cold chill at the revelation.  
  
“Altair…” He whimpered. Malik watched as the Grand Master lowered his head against the back of the chair in front of him and grit his teeth tight.   
  
“I am so ashamed…” Altair finally responded. “For years I have been fighting these urges… And then when Kadar began to invade my dreams, he began to sate such urges, but it soon became clear that there was something else to these depraved desires. And Kadar made it clear to me. He told me to close my eyes and call your name instead. He sounded so much like you when he deliberately brought his voice deeper. Suddenly, every pleasure magnified and I came screaming your name. It felt right, but I felt such shame for what I had done… I had taken advantage of your brother…” Altair swallowed and shook his head. “Then he told me he was in your dreams too, but you did nothing but reject him. He said… he said your heart was meant for only me and not even he could falter such love and devotion…” He raised his face from his arm. “Is this true, Malik?”

 

“… Yes…” Malik swallowed, staring at the back of the chair facing him. What else could he say but the truth? He had never lied to Altair and he wasn’t about to start now. “I have not been visited by Kadar for a while now though… At least, not for a few weeks, anyway...”  
  
“It is because he currently haunts me, poking at me to simply confront you about your feelings, but how was I meant to do that? ‘Oh Hello, Malik, how are you? That’s great, say, do you love me more than just a brother?’ Yes, because that does not sound like I am mocking you at all.” Altair growled sarcastically and rolled his eyes upwards.   
  
Malik noted how bloodshot they were. The man had to have been tortured by the subject for months, if not, longer.  
  
“Kiss me.”   
  
Altair blinked and turned his attention back to Malik.  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“Sorry, did I s-s-s-stutter? Kiss me.”  
  
Altair simply stared. Malik grew bored of the shocked expression and moaned, eyes rolling at the thought he had probably broken Altair’s brain. “Kiss me, Altair. Touch me and I will show you the truth if you do not believe what my brother has told you…” Malik slowly stood, rafiq robe dropping to the floor and within seconds his remaining robes and armour were dumped also. He lowered himself into the bed and relaxed against the headboard.   
  
Altair slowly stood from his chair and began to work his armour, weapons and clothes off until he stood naked as well. His throat felt dry as he climbed onto the bed and slipped into Malik’s lap, staring down to the man beneath him.   
  
The ex-rafiq stared back, fingers stroking up and down Altair’s left side as the eye contact remained unwearied. He could see Altair leaning closer, shifting until he was able to effectively bend down and press his mouth to Malik’s. The man moaned immediately and opened his lips, lapping at the tongue there to meet him, before his hand shoved its way down Altair’s pants and felt the semi-hard flesh there.  
  
“Malik!” Altair gasped, drawing back from the kiss. “You aren’t a shy man, are you?”  
  
“Do you believe me yet?” Malik growled and shoved Altair backwards against the bed, where he made a show of prowling forward and lowering himself to the now proud flesh standing tall before him. His gut burnt with pain, his stitches pulling against his skin, but he couldn’t stop now, even when he felt the first streaks of blood escaping the bandages and down his chest to drip off into the sheets.  
  
“I … may need further convincing…” Altair’s voice, laced with lust and desire gave life to the darkness swallowing his irises. He wanted this just as much as Malik was willing to give it and before long, he had the pleasure he so sought after.

 

 

***

 

 

Malik could barely remember the time when Altair’s eagle eyes were dull and deep into the sockets of his eyes, drained and hallow from the apple’s effects. Gazing down into them now, it was a world away.   
  
 He continued to snap his hips, bottom lip sucked between his teeth and cheeks pink from the exertion of such movements. Altair writhed beneath him, hands digging all nine points of lust into Malik’s hips as his own bucked up into the man riding him.   
  
But, little did they know of the figure standing in the doorway, unable to voice the shock filling their lungs as they found their feet frozen to the floor.

 

“Altair.” Malik groaned, breathlessly as his hand moved over and rested against the wall their bed was pushed against. Essentially it was Malik’s bed, but with Altair so unwilling to sleep alone since their reunion, the man had pretty much moved in and claimed it also. “Allah damns your insatiability.” He gasped.   
  
“So then you imply he approves of _this_?”   
  
Malik all but cried out at the sharp jab of the hips below him crashing into his prostate and knocking his teeth together in his skull. Squirming and rocking to get Altair to hit that spot again, Malik whimpered and tightened his grip against the wall.   
  
“Altair~” The ex-rafiq shuddered and slowly lowered down, fingers clawing down the wall as he pressed an open mouthed kiss to Altair. The Grand Master responded immediately, gliding his tongue against the others as he ran his fingers up Malik’s spine and then back down to his arse which clenched so tightly around his penis.  
  
The figure in the doorway slowly started to move backwards. They had seen too much, they decided and silently pulled the door shut.   
  
Too absorbed in their passion to notice they had been watched, or indeed the door shutting with a soft click, they rolled over, switching positions and continued to make love. They were soon biting and clawing at each other, readying for their completion when Malik reached up and clasped his hand around the base of Altair’s throat. Swallowing thickly against the grip, Altair closed his eyes and allowed Malik to squeeze his fingers, constricting his air flow as he slammed into Malik with no mercy.  
  
Malik gasped hard at each thrust, wondering if Altair truly intended to fuck him _through_  the bed. But then he was seeing white, his body drawing up tight and his spine arching as sweet pleasure spasmed through his senses.  
  
“Altair!” He cried, widening himself further to take whatever brutal love the Grand Master had left in him as he surged forward to completion.  
  
He was so sensitive as Altair fucked into him, forcing more spasms from his body until the man came white hot inside him. Malik seethed, his only hand slipping away from Altair’s throat to allow the man breath, which he gulped in hungrily as he slumped against the man below him.   
  
Minutes went by as they caught their breaths, but Malik found himself unable to stop shivering from the pleasure now it had passed. Altair pulled out and fixed Malik with a concerned stare as he ran his hands up and down his flanks.  
  
“The… That was amazing…” Malik chuckled lightly once he realised Altair was actually thinking he’d hurt him. How laughable. Altair was powerful in bed, usually mounting him like a bull and refusing to stop until he’d broken the bed supports, but he certainly never damaged Malik, so why was he shivering so much..?”  
  
Sure, it had been good, but damn, he was shaking like he had just lost his anal virginity.  
  
“Are you cold..?” Altair muttered, his fingers working over his arm and stump in hopes of warming him up.  
  
“N-no, I … suppose I am just getting old… I am quite exhausted.” Malik panted and looked up at the ceiling before his hand was instinctively moving over his stump to stop Altair from touching it. The action didn’t go unnoticed.

 

“You are creeping up on your 50’s, brother. But, still, I would not call that old.” Altair whispered.   
  
“I feel 80 now that you are finished with me.” Malik retorted and pushed his foot against Altair’s chest. “Get off, I have work to do.”  
  
“You said you were exhausted.”   
  
“That I am. But the Order will not run itself.”   
  
Altair sighed heavily and wrapped his hand around Malik’s ankle, carefully pulling the foot from his chest and slipped it over his shoulder as he pressed forward against Malik’s backside; effectively bending Malik in half, who brought up his other leg to go over Altair’s other shoulder to avoid discomfort.  
  
“Altair!” Malik snapped.  
  
“Yes, my love..?” The Grand Master grinned into his neck and began to leave a trail of kisses down his jaw.  
  
“You… are trying my patience.” The Syrian grumbled and then pushed his weight into his knees. Altair took the hint and allowed Malik to claim back his legs, albeit reluctantly.

 

“And how many years have I been doing that..? 20… 30 maybe..?”  
  
Malik opened his eyes slowly, sight shifting as to focus on Altair’s expression in the shadows. His aged face gazed back, greying stubble sliced through by the scar on his lips. But those eagle golden eyes forever burned for him, always kept his attention.  
  
“Too many years, Altair…” Malik rasped. “And I fear not many more are left for you to continue to do so…”   
  
Altair’s gaze softened further, eyes trailing down to the sheets as a finger worried across the embroidered fabric of Malik’s quilts.   
  
“You will be leaving soon for the other piece of Eden… you will be gone many years, this I know for certain, and who knows what will happen to either of us in that time?” Malik continued. “I am older than you… Given, I take far better care of myself and show more maturity, thus protecting myself from the silly actions that usually see you in the infirmary for weeks, but I am not immortal.”  
  
“Malik, I do not…”  
  
“It is something we must speak about. Allah will not let us continue our relationship like Maria has, Altair. Death will separate us until we are both standing before Him.”  
  
Altair swallowed thickly, gazing down to Malik with the stormy intensity of inner turmoil behind his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to acknowledge reality when he was so happily wrapped up in his misgivings. Malik reached to the man, thumb brushing over a strong cheekbone.  
  
“I simply do not wish to leave you… I have prayed that you would change your mind and leave for Asia with us…”  
  
“I am sure Maria will enjoy having you to herself.” Malik flicked his eyebrows at the man, urging him to truly think clearly for once.  
  
“She has never spoken against our relationship-”  
  
“I meant ‘to herself’ as in; away from Masyaf, away from…”  
  
“-from the Apple.” Altair grunted as he pulled back to his haunches.   
  
“Can you truly chastise my concern, Altair?” Malik found himself snapping. “You selfishly dump the responsibility of the Order, of your family and even your body on me as you dive into that wretched ball! I am but a man, Altair, less of one than you!”  
  
The dangerous flicker in Altair’s eyes went widely ignored by the ex-rafiq.  
  
“But when you sit in your quarters, wasting to that Allah damned _thing…_ Well, let us just say, the crushing feeling of your death will not be an unfamiliar one.” The implication of Malik witnessing such an emotion every time he found Altair slumped in a chair with his hand on the Apple was there, Altair couldn’t ignore it as he watched Malik roll off the bed and get to his feet to find his clothes.

 

“I do not wish for Remorse or Melancholy to cloud the final days we have together…” Altair breathed.  
  
“And what of the days, weeks, months, _years_ I wished for your love but you were too deeply seated in your blasted piece of Eden to care for? Perhaps this will teach you a lesson! Maybe then you will-”

 

“Enough!” Altair snapped. “You may damn the Apple, but it has given us the advantage in this war. It has served us new assassination, stealth and evading techniques and new weapons. It has shown us the locations of other Pieces so that we may hide them from the wrong hands. Do not damn something that protects you!”  
  
“Protects me? That thing has been taking you from your children, your wife, your Order! What good has it done me?! My brother died for the sake of that fucking thing! It feasted on the sacrifice of my arm! And it continues to feast off of you!” Malik argued right back.  
  
“I apologise if I am not selfish enough to give up on the people’s freedom for the sake of holding you at night! If I die alone, old and decrepit in this castle without you, then that is the price I will have to pay for what we Assassins strive for.” Altair dropped his voice, scowling almost _hatefully._ “You are being selfish.”  
  
Malik knew he was being selfish, but he didn’t care. He had spent years slaving himself to the people’s freedom. He wasn’t about to sacrifice the only person who ever meant anything to him to the damn cause now that it had swallowed everything else he ever had.

 

Malik left his own room that night.  
  
He stormed, well and truly, through the castle. He scowled daggers at the guards at the entrance to the Masyaf gardens and they swiftly stood aside either out of respect or to avoid the ‘Wrath of Malik’, as it had been affectionately named.

 

His black rafiq robe kicked up as he prowled into the gardens and found a secluded spot amongst the jasmine blossom. Sitting heavily, he resumed his scowling and folded his legs into a meditation pose. He spent close to an hour sitting in silence, forcing his anger into the cold air, breath fogging up into the night sky and generally seething away.  
  
He was only angry because Altair was right, but he found himself too stubborn to admit it. If Altair had been wrong, he would have enjoyed proving him so, making a fool of him and basking in his blushing and stuttering as he tried for words.  
  
A hand settling on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts.  
  
It was only the sheer amount of self-control that halted the instinct to jam a throwing knife into the wrist of the visitor. He looked up and immediately felt the anger coursing through his veins dissipate as he recognised the now 25 year old Taheer standing patiently to his right.  
  
“Taheer.” He sighed and pressed his hand to the ground to lift himself. The hand held firmer against Malik, keeping him from rising as the owner sat beside him on the balding grass. The 6 year old from 19 years ago had grown into a fine, well-built, muscular, yet lean man. The boy’s charity and sweetness had bled into the man’s.  
  
But he still did not speak.  
  
‘Master Malik,’ He signed with his hands. ‘I … could not help but over hear your argument with the Master.’   
  
Malik shook his head, looking back to the sky, before the same hand slipped to his forearm and squeezed tightly. That usually meant Taheer wished to continue speaking and wanted Malik’s attention, so he gave it to him.  
  
‘The man has taken a wife and had children with her, regardless of his relationship with you. Might I suggest you do the same? You do not seem to be getting younger.’

 

Malik stared.

 

“You…” He frowned and tightened his fist until he felt his nails cut crescents into his palm. “You had better not say anything.”  
  
‘I am insulted you did not trust me with such information.’ Taheer gestured, his face contorted into something akin to anger, but Malik wasn’t sure if Taheer was even capable of such an emotion, he seemed too kind of a man. ‘But I will not question your decision, Master.’ A gentle hand settled against his thigh and Malik found himself looking into the eyes of the boy he remembered clinging to his robes, too scared of his own voice to utter a single syllable. He still was that boy, but now with a well-built body, a nasty scar traveling from his left temple, over the bridge of his nose and ending over the right side of his jaw. And a 5 o’clock shadow.

 

But Malik supposed receiving scimitar to the face made any boy look like a man when it scarred.  
  
“Yes…” Malik sighed and dropped his gaze to Taheer’s hands as he continued to gesture with them.

 

‘Your secret is safe with me, Master. You know you can trust me.’ He smiled softly, always warm and welcoming to everyone. ‘It hurts me to see you this upset.’  
  
“I am not upset.” Malik scowled distastefully and looked the man in the eyes again. “I am not a woman, I do not get ‘upset’, I get pissed off, I start stabbing and insulting the person who is pissing me off…” He growled.

 

‘Regardless, Master, I still do not like seeing you this way. You deserve better than this. What hopes do you have that Altair will suddenly favour you over the apple when even his own children are neglected by him because of it?’ Taheer gave a sympathetic sigh and squeezed the firm muscle of Malik’s thigh a little tighter. ‘You have other options, have you not realised this even now..?’  
  
“I do not want to take a wife. To simply think of the things I will put her through with my preferences… I am not so cruel.” Malik murmured beneath his breath, but Taheer was close enough to hear. “Maria loves Altair so much she is willing to let him continue the relationship we have always shared, but it pains her to see it. He cares little!” He snapped.  
  
‘And it pains you as well, it seems.’ Taheer whispered and slowly slid his fingers into the hand picking furiously at the dead grass. ‘But, I did say _options_ … meaning you had more than just one… meaning you do not have to be with a woman if you do not wish to…’ To sign with only one hand was near impossible for Taheer, so he spoke in silence, mouth working around the mute words and Malik read his lips carefully.

 

The implication registered in his mind and his widening eyes reflected the shock coursing through his system. He felt long extinguished heat rocket down into his very core as his once little novice fledgling leant forward and claimed his lips in a fierce embrace only a true man could. Something akin to a whimper escaped him as he opened his mouth to the kiss, his hand grabbing at Taheer’s collar to push him off, but then the muscles in his arm relaxed and simply held the boy there instead.

 

Taheer pushed forward, sending the ex-rafiq into the prickling yellow grass. Their mouths worked together, sliding and opening until tongues joined between and slicked them moist. Malik could hear the faint sound of thundering horse shoes as he twisted his fingers into the fabric of Taheer’s robes, but he didn’t move. Those horses, they were in his head, the thundering was calling from his chest.   
  
He was getting too old for this, but Taheer was patient as he pulled back, allowing the man air before plundering his lips again. Cold hands worked into his robes, pushing the belly armour aside and unravelling the red sash from his waist as he was laid bare to the night sky.   
  
The lips left his own and moved to his neck, tasting his skin, the salt encrusted to it from previous activities and he cringed at the idea of Taheer not only tasting him on his skin, but also Altair. The thought was lost as Taheer found his sensitive spot, worrying the flesh of his neck fiercely with his teeth until Malik was drowned in the sensation and giving himself freely to the Assassin over him.   
  
A firm bite had him surfacing abruptly.  
  
“Do not leave marks, boy!” Malik snapped and brought his hand to his neck, clasping the bruised skin firmly like it would stop the mark from forming. The skin throbbed in a dull ache and past experiences told him he was in for a true love-bite. The apologetic expression on Taheer’s face was probably the sweetest thing he’d seen all night. The way those stormy blue eyes gazed down at him, seeking forgiveness, yet kiss bruised, full lips contradicted his innocence completely. Malik reached, tugging back the Assassin’s hood to get a good look of the boy who once sat at his bedside for days on end, feeding him soup, reading important paper work for him and telling him the progress of his training.  
  
“It is alright…” He finally whispered and curled his fingers under the boy’s chin, letting his knuckles run down the strong neck and start to work open his robes. His breeches were suddenly too tight, he noticed, and this time, it wasn’t a growth spurt.  
  
Of sorts, anyway.

 

Malik controlled his expression, bellying the smile that tried to pull his lips and instead moved his legs, drawing them up either side of Taheer’s pelvis. The Assassin seemed to take the hint and lowered himself, pushing firmly into Malik’s backside and drew a sharp breath at the pressure now against his confined erection. It was as if Taheer desperately wanted to say something, to blurt out a confession of sorts, but he just couldn’t. He hadn’t used his voice in decades, it was probably long broken, he could guess.   
  
There was a looming threat of Altair landing on Taheer’s back all of a sudden as Malik opened his eyes and locked his gaze onto the haunting castle of Masyaf. He shuddered, not only because of Taheer’s talent with his mouth against his neck. He could almost feel the eagle eyes of the Master boring into his body, wishing for hell’s flames to take him for such betrayal.  
  
He suddenly found himself unable to care as Taheer’s hips snapped forward and ground against his clothed erection.  
  
“S-Speak, Taheer.” Malik groaned, head thumping back against the grass.   
  
Taheer gazed down to his Master, his fingers working into the greying temples of Malik’s raven hair, before sliding down to the silver trimmed beard around his full lips.   
  
From what he had seen from earlier, when he had walked in on Malik and Altair making such passionate love, Malik hadn’t lost any elasticity in his body. His muscles stood firm, his skin still dark and stretched tight over taught flesh and his penis hadn’t suffered either. Only his face seemed weathered by what Taheer could only guess were frequent storms of ‘Altair’s bullshit’.  
  
And as he pushed the last of Malik’s clothing away, boots sliding off with the breeches, he realised then just how long he had been waiting to see his master so up-close and personal, so exposed to him.  
  
His manhood so hard and red, pressed against his belly, waiting.   
  
“Tell me what you think about, Taheer.” Malik breathed. A broad hand suddenly clasped his wrists as he lifted them to tell Malik how handsome he was, how much his body turned him on and how badly he wished to caress it beneath his fingertips, but with his hands disabled, how could he? He opened his lips to mouth the words, but Malik closed his eyes and turned his face to the side.  
  
“Tell me…” He whispered again.

 

Panic began to settle in his chest. His cock flagged a little within his breeches as the blood rushed to his face and brain to think of a way out of the situation, but there wasn’t another option for him. His lips parted again, his breath foggy in front of him as he released a quiet sigh.   
  
“Nothing will hurt you, Taheer… I promise…” Onyx eyes slid open, regarding him as he pushed his hips firm against Malik’s backside again. His brows furrowed, his mouth opening wider as if to moan, as Malik expected, but then…  
  
“Master… m-Malik.” It didn’t sound like himself. Where were his tight vocals, his girlish voice, his high-pitched syllables and childish giggles? His voice, it was deep and velvety, raspy, given the lack of use and hushed, but not what he remembered.  
  
“More…” Malik grinned, eyes sliding open to acknowledge the man fully. “Give me more, boy.”  
  
“Master Malik, will you let me…?” He trailed off, the hand not keeping him hanging over Malik running into his breeches and giving himself a few firm tugs to spark new life into his penis. “…let me…” He simply moaned.

 

“Of course…” Malik replied. “To have a lover without a voice feels far less consensual than it should.”  
  
Taheer raised his head, cheeks flushed and eyes stormy with desire. “Consensual? You mean…”  
  
“Regardless of my age, I would have skinned you if I did not return your desires.” Malik smirked and opened his naked body to the man over him. “I only fear you have misgivings over the goods you are about to receive. They have been… spoiled… so to say.” The self-deprecating smile flashed across Malik’s lips fast, but Taheer saw it and wished he hadn’t.  
  
“Whatever self-loathing thoughts you may have about yourself are not shared by me, Master.” Taheer whispered and lined himself with Malik’s still pliant opening. “You are the man who haunts me, who has saved my life hundreds of times over in my dreams and then kissed me until I wake hard and wanting… I see what Altair does to you and I wish I could help… but what can I do against the man you love, the man who has saved the brotherhood..?” Taheer paused and bit his lip, Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he restrained himself against thrusting in just yet.  
  
He simply teased Malik’s opening with the tip of his penis and gazed at the ex-rafiq.  
  
“Nothing.” Malik smiled softly. “But I assure you, you are dealing a blow to him big enough to tear an organ just by kissing me.”   
  
“It seems… wrong… when you put it that way…” Taheer worried.

 

“If Altair can have his wife, then I see no problem in loving someone else as well. He is simply selfish to think I will wait for him for years until he returns, and what then? I will be too old to function, gathering dust and obsolete with the wooden training swords and old-model hidden blades. I will not waste my life waiting for that man when I have someone who cares for me right here…” Malik stopped and tilted his gaze skyward, an air of tension flushing through his body. “Though… I worry for you, Taheer. You will be sacrificing your lineage, your chance for a family for me, like I have done for Altair.”  
  
“I cannot sacrifice something I have never truly wanted, so never had.” Taheer interrupted as he pressed a kiss to Malik’s full lips. “I will be here for you…”  
  
Malik locked eyes with the Assassin again, fingers weaving into the chestnut, boyish locks framing his features, pushed back from his face from constant urging from his own fingers.  
  
“I am glad…” He breathed.

 

“What the fuck is this?!”

 

Malik breathed a heavy sigh and rolled his head back, watching a large form in black and white with flecks of red approach quickly, but not running. Taheer bristled, but simply pulled Malik’s breeches back on his hips, then tucked himself away calmly, if a little stiffly.  
  
“What do you want..?” Malik growled quietly and sat up to face the Grand Master. When Taheer stepped out between him and Altair, now fully dressed and proper, he couldn’t help but feel a jab of pride for the boy.  
  
“Step aside, brother.” Altair spat the final word as if poison on his tongue. Taheer didn’t return the tone, he simply stood stubborn in the way and scowled at the man from under his hood. Altair did not appreciate such disobedience and stepped into Taheer’s space, chest pressing against the Assassin’s. “I said; ‘step aside’.” He hissed dangerously.   
  
Taheer made no move, simply opened his lips and leant close.

 

“Master Altair, I plead guilty to insubordination…” He spoke with sincerity, both Malik and Altair noticed. “… For I will not move aside and let you do whatever the anger is fuelling you to do.”

 

The words spilling from Taheer’s lips were spoken in a voice Altair had never heard before. He felt the anger pounding in his veins, burning the back of his neck, but the boy was _speaking_ and Altair couldn’t stop the shocked expression from filling his features.

  
And when Taheer continued to speak, he could feel the fury leaving him.  
  
“Never harm an innocent, Master.” He whispered, hot breath drawing over the Grand Master’s lips. “Do not compromise the brotherhood by harming those who otherwise love and care for you and would go to the ends of the earth for you…” Taheer leant forward more and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Altair’s mouth, the raised scar alien against his lips.

 

Malik had to get Taheer to work as a battlefield negotiator. The way he talked the anger from Altair, then kissed the arguments from his lips was something only Malik could do sometimes, but that was only on a good day, where Altair was too tired to argue. Taheer continued to deepen the kiss with Altair, a soft moan rumbling in the back of his throat as the Grand Master responded, tongue lapping at the cock-sucker lips on the younger man.  
  
Malik watched from where he sat on the floor, patiently waiting for Altair to either push him away, or push him into the nearest pillar and fuck him.   
  
“M-Master!” Taheer snapped suddenly, his neck craning back at what Malik realised, after leaning over to see past the scabbard of Taheer’s sword, was the tight grip Altair had on his privates.   
  
“If I learn you have hurt my oldest friend, I will cut your cock clean off and wear it as a badge of honour.” Altair was hissing through tightly clenched teeth. “You are encroaching on my territory… desecrate it and you will soon learn how true I stay to my threats.”  
  
“Yes Sir…” Taheer whimpered softly, hand going to Altair’s to try and pry him from his cock. He released a muffled cry as Altair clamped tighter, before tugging his hand away and turning to Malik.   
  
“This is what you want…” It wasn’t a question, Malik noted.  
  
“Yes, Altair.” He hesitated. “Well, truly, I would prefer to have you both as you have with Maria and I, but I doubt either of you will see it fair.”  
  
“I have wanted you for almost a decade, Master Malik… Technically, I have shared you with Altair for just as much time, regardless of your knowledge of my feelings… I think continuing to share will do me no harm.” Taheer announced as he adjusted himself in his breeches.  
  
“I have never shared you with anyone before…” Altair sounded reserved, as per usual. “But I suppose there are first times for everything.” A soft smile graced his scarred and kiss-bruised lips.

 

“No matter how many years that pass, Altair, you will always have me… I will be here when you return from Asia… we both will…” Malik held up his hand and chuckled. “Join me, both of you… Make our last night one that resonates for years to come…”  
  
Taheer hesitated, feeling very much the third wheel as he knew he wasn’t the one leaving, Altair was. Altair took Malik’s hand, then gave the Assassin to his left a confused glance.   
  
“Taheer?” He called.  
  
“Perhaps I should leave you two to spend your last night in peace…”  
  
“No. This is not about what you want, nor what I want, it is about Malik.” Altair growled quietly and slowly knelt to the ground. “You will do well to avoid the ‘Wrath of Malik’ by doing what he says.”  
  
“You are a bastard, Altair.” The ex-rafiq snarled as Altair bit his earlobe with a sultry growl.  
  
“Come, Taheer…” The Grand Master called, fingers curling out to the young man. “Let us pleasure our Master like good concubines…” The grin that graced his lips proved his humour was just as dry as his grin was terrifying. Taheer slid to his knees and leant forward, planting a kiss to Malik’s lips.  
  
“Yes Master…” He whispered.  
  
Malik found himself on his back not a moment later, clothes evicted and body bared once more. His ‘concubines’ hung over him like lustrous whores hungry for coin, but Malik knew they only wanted his approval or suggestions or Allah knows, all he knew was they wanted him and he wanted them both back.  
  
“Close your eyes, Master… relax… We will take care of you.” Taheer’s soft voice called to him as fingers raked down his thighs, purposefully avoiding the throbbing flesh lying across his stomach. He felt Altair at his pulse point, nibbling and licking at the flesh and he didn’t want to stop this, none of it. Out in the fresh air where the ladies of the garden were probably watching and chirping curiously amongst themselves – he didn’t care.  
  
Don’t stop, never stop.  
  
And he wouldn’t stop, not until Allah took him into His embrace.


End file.
